Spiritfall
by S.A. Thorup
Summary: Set in the years after the Rebirth Trilogy by W.A. Johnson. Onomi is a troll with a dark secret, who has failed his tribe's initiation and is on the run from himself. He hooks up with a lone crotchety lore drake, who has secrets of her own. Will their mutual guilt put them on the path to redemption? Rated T for violence, mature themes, and some horror.
1. The Guardian

56 RE

Southern Kura-Cora

Dry Season

A low tune vibrated through the moss-slicked trees. Its deep hum grew in intensity, then took on a heavy, quiet chant. It rose from the earth like smoke, fell like snow from the sky, multiplied through the trees like a swarm of hornets, expanding its range and tones into Onomi's laid-back ears. The dark chant told him one thing.

He had failed.

The troll sprinted along the barely visible path, his toe-claws extended to catch at earth and grass and mud and rock, propelling him deeper into the jungle. He panted, tongue lolling and green eyes wide. His black fur bristled. Onomi had failed, and no matter how fast or far he fled, someone would make him pay for his mistake.

Leaves and branches and vines tried to catch at him, as if to turn him over to the voices that sung for his death. Onomi grunted and clawed past them, even as they tugged at his leather sleeves and scratched across his bead-mail vest.

Onomi swallowed and blinked away tears. This was no time to cry! Terror flowed as adrenaline through his system, tripling his strength, although even his instinct of flight would not keep him safe forever.

 _How could this happen?!_ he demanded of himself. _I did everything I was supposed to!_

Onomi searched frantically for escape along the trail, mane swinging as his head darted back and forth. He couldn't climb a tree. Hiding under a boulder would do him no good either. There was no escape from the Guardian. He could only flee, hoping the Guardian would lose interest in him and return to the Sanctuary.

Onomi's eyes stung from more tears, and as he blinked them, his foot caught on a root, and he slammed into a puddle of mud and leaves. He lost his breath. The song of the spirits clamored around him, condemning him, calling for the Guardian to steal his spirit. Onomi automatically pushed up and shook himself before blurring away half a second later.

He stumbled to a halt, bowed over and heaving breaths, when he saw a shadow moving among the shadows about a dozen yards off. An intense heat flowed before it, making his fur ripple slightly. Despite the heat, Onomi felt cold fear strumming through the blood in his throat, leaving a stinging sensation in his head. He removed a small knife from his vest––his last weapon––and forced himself to stand like a true warrior.

His legs shook at the idea, and Onomi felt like curling up in a ball like a cub and screaming. He had tried to face the Guardian already, and its terror had sent him scurrying into the darks of the jungle night. As the shadow approached him, the chants that had followed from behind surrounded him. The spirits wanted him dead for his failure.

Onomi grimaced, snout wrinkling. His skin crinkled against three long teeth pierced through the bridge of his nose. They were a status symbol, the magic of the shaman, of his ability to once summon the very spirits that would tear his flesh to bits did not the Guardian already have that right. Onomi refused to remove the teeth, which he had fought and slain an ice raptor for. He had worked too hard to come all this way, only to fail, but that didn't mean he had to give up everything he had.

Onomi's stomach churned, and he leaned over further. Why did he stand and wait for the Guardian? The shadow weaved deliberately through the trees, two pale eyes glowing from its head. The chants and humming cycled around him, growing louder as the shadow came closer. Onomi knew he should keep running, but now that he had stopped, his body was trembling in exhaustion, yet frozen in fear.

He realized then what had happened. Once he had stopped moving, the spirits had filled his head with their death chants and seized his limbs with their invisible powers. Earth slid over his feet, fingering through his fur and claws. The air seemed to squeeze around his head and into his ears, and the spirits forced him to keep looking at his black, smoldering executioner.

 _I'm alone,_ came the stunning realization. When Onomi felt the harsh grip of the spirits, he realized they were forcing him towards his doom, not saving him. They had abandoned all loyalty to him. Onomi growled and almost forgot about the Guardian. Curse the spirits, then! Curse all they had meant! He didn't need them.

The shadow brushed onto the dirt trail and halted. It looked like black smoke, dark as coal, absorbing light into its depths. It was tall and held the shape of a troll, back hunched and arms hanging as if it were tired. Its two white eyes focused on him, each with three slitted pupils that dripped with glaring hot white tears, which faded into its face.

" _You have failed,"_ the Guardian whispered as if dying. Its voice was as dreary as the chants, old as the ages. _"You will die."_

Onomi roared and shook his body, managing to break the hold of the spirits, and lunged forward with his stone knife.

The Guardian held up a clawed hand and caught Onomi's head. The heat of a bonfire burned against his fur. The troll tried to jerk his head back, but the spirit held him fast. Onomi slashed at the arm with knife and claw, but they passed through as if the Guardian was not there.

A hot sensation shot into his head and flooded all his nerves. It was as if lava filled his very veins. Onomi shrieked, dropping his knife and grabbing at the Guardian's hand. A moment later all fire flitted from him, and the Guardian let him collapse on the ground.

" _The spirits have left you,"_ the Guardian growled, eyes rolling away in opposite directions. _"You failed."_

When Onomi looked up, the Guardian was gone. The hums and chants of the spirits, as well as their oppressive presence, had disappeared. Instead came low croons and calls that were normal to the jungle. Onomi dropped his head and rasped in breaths across the mud, body shivering in relief. Despite his fear and anger, he felt a pounding ache enter his heart.

He had failed, and he was alone.


	2. Abandoned

2: Abandoned

The next morning, Onomi trudged along the trail, head bowed. Birds whistled and called through the canopy, and warm sunlight filtered across his pelt, sometimes highlighting hidden dark rings in his brown-black fur.

Onomi almost couldn't face his own shame, but it was there, thrashing and screaming in the depths of his soul. His family and friends in the village were expecting him back that evening from his pilgrimage to the Sanctuary. He had fulfilled all his tests and oaths as a low shaman, and had approached the Guardian to receive his full shaman power.

" _You failed."_

He had ran as the Guardian attacked him. His eyes watered weakly, and he shook away the memories of the night. They tried to replay anyway. His stomach growled, and Onomi was grateful for the distraction. He needed to eat, no matter how much he wished to lay down and die.

Onomi waited until he came to a small stream with a log bridge before he sat down on a rock and checked his satchel. There was a small chunk of goat cheese wrapped in linen, as well as his last thick strip of monkey jerky. He bit into the cheese, staring at the metallic ripples of the stream and trying to lose himself in their movement. He didn't want to think of anything right then. Onomi almost wanted to lose his mind, wander as a lunatic. At least he wouldn't have to try and understand things anymore.

As he was finishing his jerky, he did allow himself to think of his family again. Onomi dreaded confronting them with the awful news that he had failed, that the spirits didn't want his guiding hand. In his mind's eye, the face of his father loomed largest, his spotted gold pelt turned to shadows and his eyes glowering like flames upon his failure of a son. Never in the history of Mej-Gurk village had a low shaman failed to attain his full powers from the Guardian.

Onomi considered one possibility why he had failed, but he had suppressed the memory so much it almost seemed part of his imagination.

When he became an adult at ten, he had entered the circle of Mej-Gurk's shamans as a low shaman. Ever since he could walk, he had exhibited a friendship with the spirits of earth, sky, and forest, and the shamans had taken him under his wing.

Onomi gulped and bowed his head. By edict of the Guardian, shamans were under strict vows of loyalty, integrity, and chastity. Only a year into his time as low shaman, Onomi had fell in love with the chieftain's daughter and had broken his chastity with her.

They never told anyone about it, and their love disintegrated soon after when she began to chase another warrior. Onomi had been deathly afraid that the chieftain or shamans would learn of it through her, but they stayed blissfully oblivious. Onomi knew he should have confessed his broken vow to the head shaman and gone on a cleansing pilgrimage to the sacred Theeras River to purge his spirit and begin his vows anew.

Instead, to run from his former love and his anxiety over the ordeal, he had gone to the head shaman and requested to go on a spirit quest for his _asha'jyu,_ the personal spirit talismans of a shaman. The head shaman had agreed, proud of Onomi, and blessed him.

At the time, Onomi had feared the spirits had left him for his sin. But as he traveled into the Black Crystal Mountains, the spirits had guided him. They saved him from many dangers, and led him on a path he could not see to a pack of ice raptors. The spirits had shown him in a dream vision that their teeth would be his _asha'jyu,_ and that they would be powerful talismans.

Onomi realized now that the spirits had been with him to try and persuade him to confess his great sin. As he pondered on it, sitting in the cool shade on his rock and staring at the stream, the feelings became real again. His triumph at slaying the beast, packing its sweet meat, and returning to Mej-Gurk with three of its snowy teeth in hand, had driven away all his guilt, and he mostly managed to forget about his whole affair with the chieftain's daughter.

The whole village had a feast for Onomi, and watched the head shaman whittle the blunt ends of the teeth down for piercing. The pain of breaking nasal bone drove the guilt further away, and when the _asha'jyu_ were in place, Onomi stood and roared in defiance at the pain and the pathetic guilt that cowered in the corner of his mind. The village cheered, and Onomi felt his path as a full shaman would be fulfilled.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, then ran a hand through his mane. Several beads passed along his fingers, tokens of love and luck from family and friends. Onomi growled.

"I can't believe this," he muttered. He didn't care if the spirits heard him; they had left him for dead anyway. "The Guardian punishes me for something that happened five years ago! And why didn't it kill me?"

Spirits could be cryptic, and as Onomi pondered the Guardian's condemning words, it felt like hammer blows to his face. The Guardian had killed the part of Onomi that had been connected with the spirit world.

"A troll without the spirits is like the sky without the sun," he murmured, remembering the saying from the shaman circle. "Night has fallen upon me."

Onomi wondered if confessing his mistake to the head shaman now would make any difference. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. He had dedicated his whole life to magic, and now he was bereft of any magic.

Onomi continued his slow tread and came to the main road, called the Giga Track. He stopped on its edge and spotted a caravan coming from the Black Crystal Mountains to the northwest. There were several covered wagons, and a majority of the group appeared to be human. However, he spotted a few trolls and light elves among them, walking or riding horses.

The lead wagon pulled up beside Onomi. It was driven by a tall, large man with red hair and a carefully trimmed red beard. His eyes wrinkled as he smiled.

"You must be from Mej-Gurk, friend," the man spoke in Latis. Traders with Mej-Gurk used Latis with the villagers, and Onomi had grown up with the language. "Care to look at any of our wares before you head home?"

Onomi glanced the man up and down.

"Where are you headed?" Onomi asked.

"We're stopping along every town on the Track until we reach Scout Point," he said. "It's a few more months until we get there. In the meantime, plenty of trading to do!"

Several of the other travelers had gathered around at this point to gaze at Onomi. He glanced eastward, the direction of his village. His eyes grew misty, and he knew he couldn't go back. Too much shame awaited him, and the spirits had abandoned him. Onomi snapped his gaze back to the wagon leader.

"Can I come with?" he inquired in a soft tone. "I'm good with the bow."

The man stroked his beard, still smiling.

"And with magic too, I imagine," he said, staring at the _asha'jyu._

"I'm not a shaman," Onomi said quicker than he had intended. He shook his head. "I don't use the magic."

Some of the trolls laid their ears back and looked at each other, confused. No matter the tribe, no mere warrior wore the _asha'jyu_ and got away with it. Onomi somehow still got away with it, even after his failure, and he decided he would keep wearing the _asha'jyu_ to defy the spirits.

The man's expression fell somewhat, and he gestured.

"Are you sure?" he said more quietly. "I bet some of the folks back home will be missing you."

Onomi folded his arms and tried to keep his chin up.

"I know," he said honestly. "Can I come?"

The man shrugged and nodded.

"As long as you pull your load, you're welcome," he said. He jerked a thumb behind him. "A few wagons back is a dragon woman. She's in charge of the hunters. You'll help her out from now on."

"Yes sir," Onomi said, bowing his head. "Thank-you, sir."

"The name's Rich," he said. "Just Rich."

Onomi blinked, and the other travelers dispersed among the caravan. A dragon woman? He had heard of the dragon men that lived in the mountains, but they were a hidden and reclusive people. What was one doing out here among others?

He spotted her quickly. She sat on the driving seat of her wagon, hunched over in a brooding manner. Her wings were tucked tightly against her back and partly covered in a brown cloak, and she held the reins at ready, staring at the wagon ahead of her. Milling around her wagon were mostly humans and two trolls.

Onomi approached her, and she cocked her head at him and narrowed her red eyes. She had light, almost pale green scales that held a metallic sheen. On her head was a half mask of silver with a sapphire gem and amber cabachon under the eye like tears. A foreign symbol was etched on the silver above her eye. She had two light brown horns, both of which appeared to have been broken. A ragged yellow mane ran the length of her spine, only disappearing under her thickly padded leather tunic. A curved double-bladed knife he knew as a _raelef_ hung between her legs where she could draw it easily.

"Heard Rich just dumped another harvester on me," she said, her voice tumbling like gravel under water. "You can hunt, right?"

"I've taken three mountain buffalo in––"

"Shut-up," she sighed, looking away. Onomi frowned at her. "I'm Ka Remel, but just call me Remel. We hunt for meat and furs and skins and trophies. Got it?"

Would she always speak like this to him? Onomi nodded, afraid that speaking would only earn another "shut-up." Remel deigned to look at him one more time, eyes still narrow.

"You will walk. If you're good enough, you might get a horse," she explained. "If you have questions, ask the other hunters. They know the drill. However," here she pointed a finger at him, "you will report all your numbers––how many skins and trophies and their weights––to _me._ And if you steal any of it... _"_

Remel's voice trailed into a growl, and Onomi gave one hard nod. The lore drake waved him away, and Rich started the caravan forward.


	3. Serem

3: Serem

The further they trekked down the Giga Track, the further from home Onomi became. Though his body was becoming more distant from Mej-Gurk, part of his soul wished to return and see the faces of his brothers and sisters and the shamans. Onomi tried to push the feelings away with each step, and was glad whenever Rich's caravan came upon a town, for the new sights, sounds, and smells distracted him from his heartache.

Remel and her hunters already had a wagon-load of skins, furs, and meats. At their first stop, they began to pull out packages of raw meat to sell. Onomi wondered how they kept the meat from rotting, since he hadn't seen any of the meat in Remel's wagon turned to jerky or even cooked.

"Hey, new boy, help me out here," said one of the hunters, a tall elf man with black hair and a missing eye. He was attempting to slide a very large packet from the back of the wagon.

Onomi hurried to him and curled his paws underneath the meat. He sucked in a breath when he found that the package was cold as snow. The elf grunted and began to pull the package further out.

"It's so cold!" Onomi hissed as they carried it to a blanket laid out on the grass. Townsfolk were already gathering around the caravan to look at Rich's wares.

"Remel keeps it that way," the hunter hissed, apparently as uncomfortable with the cold as Onomi. "Uses frost magic or something like that."

Magic? Onomi straightened and lifted his head, searching for Remel. She was at the head wagon consulting with Rich and rubbing her _raelef's_ handle. Rich had three mages that walked with the head wagon, but Onomi would have never guessed Remel was connected to magic.

Remel seemed to sense eyes on her, for she craned her graceful neck around and scrutinized the black troll. He looked away quickly, not wanting to make a challenge by meeting her eyes, and hurried to help unpack the rest of the supplies.

Remel returned to the blanket of meats and set up a small table and stool to sit upon, ready to sell her meat. She set a metal box on the table and opened it with a key around her neck, and Onomi glimpsed dozens of coins and some paper money within. Two hunters stayed nearby to help, but most headed into the town, clapping each other on the backs, laughing, and chatting. Onomi stood nearby, unsure of what to do with himself. Remel glanced at him.

"You," she called. "Go into town and advertise the meat."

Onomi stared, and then came to her table.

"What should I say?" he asked. She squinted an eye.

"You're not a child. Find people that buy meat, tell them about our meat," Remel said with a huff. He nodded and turned away, still bewildered, and heard her mutter: "Earn your keep instead of riding like a tic."

His ears burned, and he felt anger like a small fire flicker in his gut. Onomi let out a puff of air himself and marched towards the town square, determined not to be a "tic."

He passed several shops, pausing at each door and feeling his nerves dance erratically. He tried to determine by the displayed goods in windows and hanging from racks if the owners would like animal products. Several townsfolk, all human with various forms of braided hair and red markings on their faces, sent Onomi unfriendly looks. He ducked his head lower and lower the further he progressed around the square until his eyes finally met the ground.

Onomi paused outside a booth that boasted various claws, teeth, skulls, and furs, as well as several pieces of handmade jewelry. He looked past the wares to a young, plump woman dressed in red. The skin around one eye was painted in red, and her braided hair had red paint splashed over it.

"Hail, shaman," she said, waving a hand over her collection. "Searching for your _asha'jyu?_ Of course..." She gave him a wry smile. "Looks like you have three fine ones already."

"We are selling meats and trophies," he said quickly, folding his arms to hide their trembling. Why did talking to a mere human about selling meat make him quiver like an aspen? "Interested?"

The woman leaned over to find Rich's caravan.

"That old devil," she laughed. Then she looked at Onomi. "Of course I'll take a look...you new there?"

He nodded.

"And you must be with the dragon woman. She's the one that hunts."

Onomi nodded again, ears pricking up in interest.

"Ka Remel can be a grouch," the woman said. "I used to be in Rich's company before I settled here in Tal-Erth. Poor lady came out of nowhere, broken, beaten. Something messed her up bad. She's mean to the tooth, but she has a soft side too. She won't dare say anything behind my back."

Onomi again recalled Remel's remark about being a tic, and wondered if Remel really kept such a promise to anyone.

"Anyway, I'll come take a look soon," she said. She held out a hand. "The name is Serem."

Onomi was surprised at how she fearlessly reached for his paw. The rest of the townsfolk looked at him like he was a rabid dog. He took her hand, and she squeezed.

"Onomi," he said. He was about to say his town's name, as was customary, but he withheld. If Serem had traveled with Rich, it was likely she knew of Mej-Gurk, and she might start asking questions he didn't want to answer. He tried to give her a small grin. "If I had any coins on me, I should like to purchase something."

"Well, next time Richard comes around, I'll have something special for you to buy," she said with a sincere smile. Onomi felt a warmth in his heart at her kindness. He gave a small bow at his waist and left to advertise more, encouraged by his discussion with Serem.

Onomi returned to the meat wagon about an hour later, feeling a sense of pride at having talked to several people. It lifted his spirit when he saw some of those same people looking over the meats, horns, and furs and skins Remel had to offer. As he thought about hunting and selling his future catches, Onomi considered that perhaps there was more to life than shaman magic and living in the village, and he felt an unexpected excitement over the prospect.

He spotted Serem in her rich crimson gown bending over a set of ram horns, with Remel standing near her and speaking quietly. Onomi approached, although one side feared Remel while the other liked Serem.

"Ah, Onomi," Serem said, waving. "I've been telling Remel to be good to you."

Remel rolled her eyes as Onomi stopped before them and folded his arms. Remel began to address Serem again.

"Rich could always use a good craftswoman, Serem," Remel said. "Will you consider traveling with us again?"

Serem shook her head and pointed at the horns.

"How much for these?"

Onomi stayed standing near the blanket while Serem completed her bargain, eyeing Remel. She had come to the caravan broken? For the first time, Onomi took a close look at Remel's wings. She had always kept them partially covered with her cloak, and had never spread them in front of him. He looked over her countenance next, her unkempt appearance, the several broken scales along the bare side of her face, the snapped antlers.

Why had she come to the caravan, and not returned to her own people? Of course, Onomi could ask the same of himself. He didn't want to face the shame of it, didn't want to see the sadness fill the eyes of his loved ones. Was Remel just as shamed as he?

In the evening the caravan packed up their wares and prepared to leave to a campground a few miles down the Track. After Remel's goods were packed, her workers lined up for their profits from the sales. Onomi stood in the back, assuming he was to receive something for advertising Remel's wagon.

Onomi's turn came to stand before Remel's sale table. She gazed at him with a long, quiet sigh through her nostrils.

"You got some people to come," she said quietly, suddenly looking to her money box. His whiskers twitched forward as she tilted her head down too, but she didn't try to sort out any money for him. Onomi tried to read the gesture, but it was alien to him. He hadn't seen many other peoples other than those in his village. Remel finally rifled out some gold coins, called kurds, and pushed them to him. "It's just a little. You'll get more after the hunts."

She stood without a word, tucking the box under one arm and snapping the table closed, followed by the chair. Onomi slid the coins into his belt, double-layered and bolted at intervals to create small pockets.

Rich led his caravan out, heading towards the darkening east.


	4. Death in the Grass

4: Death in the Grass

Ka Remel's group didn't hunt for two more days. When the time came, the hunters prepared their bows and crossbows and arrows and bolts in the twilight before dawn. Onomi hesitantly asked Onomi if they had a spare bow for him to use.

Remel bore her teeth, as if ready to snarl at him, and Onomi tensed himself in preparation, but then she snorted and rubbed her head's bare half.

"You'll have to _buy_ one," she said slowly. "Or make one. For now, you're a herder."

"Herder?" he demanded, his mane bristling somewhat. "I'm a hunter, not a––"

"Quiet!" she snapped, waving a hand. Some of the other hunters sneered at Onomi for being so loud. Onomi swallowed, remembering that the caravan had a rule about being quiet through the night until sunrise. "It's like this, Onomi: we surround some animals. You get on the far side and chase them towards us. We call it the herding job."

"Ah," he grunted, and then cleared his throat. His village's hunters used a similar technique, although he had never been the one to chase the animals into the hunters' trap. "I'll do my best."

Remel opened her mouth as if to say more, and then shook her head and went to join the other hunters. Onomi stood alone, eyes looking at the mists among the trees, before he turned to the group.

The hunting party left the caravan in silence and took an opening in the trees. Remel led the way, keeping her nose high as she scented the air. She carried a quiver across her abdomen so the arrow fletching didn't catch on the underbrush, and propped against her shoulder was a fine blackwood bow. They walked single file in the darkness, and Onomi stalked behind Remel. He too took deep breaths through his nose to detect any prey, glad that the shadows lent him added camouflage to his dark fur.

They traveled an hour through the trees, navigating across or around fallen forage and leaping across several small streams. Sunlight began to glow over the canopy, and warm vapors lifted from the soil. Onomi's stomach grumbled as a sharp hunger pain hit him, but Remel had already told them they weren't eating breakfast until after the hunt.

They began to trek up an incline, and Remel held up her hand. They stopped, legs straining against the hill. She took small sniffs, snorted quietly, and inhaled deeply.

"Sheep," she hissed. She made a wave forward and walked up, her tightly folded, partially hidden wings swaying back and forth slightly with each step.

Onomi used hands and feet to pull himself up, liking the cool earth between his fingers and toes. The smell of the soil brought back the voices of the earth spirits holding his feet fast as the Guardian purged him, and Onomi shivered. He paused and shook his head. The hunter behind him, another troll, pushed his shoulder against his leg with a harsh nod upward. Onomi nodded, head cocked away in apology, and hurried after Remel.

They came to the top of the ridge and laid belly down. The hill went down at a sharp angle and circled into a small basin and meadow surrounded by a wall of jungle. There was a long, thin pond at the bottom, around which milled a small flock of sheep. Onomi observed them carefully, finding no shepherds or their dogs nearby. It must be a wild herd.

Remel poked his furry shoulder (he had opted not to wear his leathers or beads on the hunt) and made a circling gesture.

"When you're ready, drive them to this hill," she whispered. "We'll be ready."

"Will they scatter?"

"That's up to you," she growled, and then cut the rumble short and nodded towards the basin.

Onomi gulped, knowing this was his chance to truly prove himself to Remel and the other hunters. He was tired of their combined indifference, rude remarks, and wary looks. Wishing for luck from his _asha'jyu,_ Onomi backed away and crawled horizontal across the hill slope before making his way into the trees.

It took him a good half hour to circle the flock without being detected. The wind was blowing upwind to him, the heady scent of matted wool meeting his nose. Once he reached the other side, he pressed himself to the earth and observed the sheep further. They had moved to the eastern end of the pond to his left. He couldn't see any of the hunters on the opposite hill, and Onomi supposed they had taken refuge behind some trees lower down the slope.

Onomi started whispering a prayer of success to the spirits––and remembered they had abandoned him. He cut short the prayer and frowned, a wave of anger passing over his whole body. He didn't need them to hunt. He was a troll, after all, a natural-born predator, and he knew how to hunt, with or without a bow.

Onomi belly-crawled out into the open, keeping low in the tall grasses of the meadow. He was determined to get to a patch of grass about fifty yards from the herd before revealing himself. They needed to go south to Remel's hill.

A sharp pain ripped across his back, and he roared. He tried to whip himself around, only managing a half twist to meet the face of a giant green-brown bear. Its fur was long and swayed like willow fronds, and it reared above him, roaring and flashing its several dagger-like claws.

Onomi grabbed at the bear's belly fur to pull himself up and confront the beast. His back spasmed, and he instead screamed as the bear fell upon him, teeth digging into his mane in search of his throat. Onomi slashed at the bear's skull, but it simply closed its eyes and stood again, flinging him up with it.

Over the shrieking pain of his body he detected whistling arrows just as his body swung before the bear's torso, and a new pain struck his right shoulder. Onomi cursed at the feeling of the lodged arrow shaft, and then screamed as the bear worried him back and forth, its teeth coming closer and closer to his skin.

The hunters let out battle cries, surrounding the bear with their weapons. It became a pincushion of arrows before two finally reached into its heart and felled it, bringing Onomi down with it. He snarled uncontrollably, scrabbling at the creature's mouth and kicking its neck with his feet. Hands grabbed him and the bear's head, pulling him away as they pried its slavering jaws open.

Onomi breathed hard, body still full of the fight, and he swiped at one of his saviors. They dodged and held his arms.

"Hold still!"

Remel's rough voice cut through the pain that vibrated through his ears, and he opened his eyes. The agony burned across his whole body.

"The arrow didn't go all the way through..."

"Hold him fast!"

They followed Remel's instructions, pinning his arms and legs so he was in a side-lying position in the grass. He distantly noted the whole area was painted with gore, and he swerved his head up, trying to see Remel.

He felt pressure in his deltoid as she seized the arrow and suddenly yanked it out. He bellowed and snapped at the air to defend himself, but the hunters held him firm. Next came a sensation of bitter cold crawling over his back and around his throbbing shoulder.

"That should hold the bleeding for now," Remel breathed. "Get him up. Let's get back at once."

Onomi's brain whirled, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. The two trolls in the party put their arms under his and hauled him back. The trip through the trees and mists was a nightmare of blurred blacks and greens and blues. The hunters moved like night terrors across his vision, sending shocks of fear through his mind. He didn't struggle away, and he welcomed the numbing cold that had dulled some of the pain.

" _You have failed."_

 _Again and again and again and again..._ he thought in his daze. He didn't even know what it meant to fail anymore. What was failure? He grinned, his second eyelids sliding over his eyes in his half-unconscious state.

They burst out of the forest and into the camp. The caravan's people were up and eating breakfast, and they paused as Remel led the way to Rich's wagon, calling for the magic users. Onomi had regained some more of his senses and managed to move his feet now, grimacing at the pain under the magic frost.

He closed his eyes to concentrate on controlling the sluicing ache all across him. He was laid on his belly this time, and the frost vaporized. Onomi panted through his mouth, searching for a trance-like state to leave behind the pain. He had entered but a few trances through his training as a shaman, and he sought the peace of being nothing and everything to get away from the skin ripped from his back and his torn shoulder muscle and draining blood.

Two sets of hands rested on his shoulder, and two voices murmured through what he supposed were spells. He repeated their words in his mind to assist his meditation, and the pain in his shoulder faded into a dull soreness.

Another set of hands laid something across his back, something that felt soft and slick...he shuddered when he realized they had rescued part of his skin from the attack, and the two sets of hands circled around his back. The magic stung across his spine, but the skin stitched together the best it could under the guiding hands of the magic users, feeling like a mild itch.

Onomi's panting eased into deep breaths, and he remained on his stomach when they moved away. Now his back felt sore, and he dared not move yet. He kept his eyes closed, losing himself in the bliss of the removed pain, and relaxed even further.

He heard shuffling of feet and muttered voices. Remel revealed to them she wished to speak to Onomi, and they left her in privacy. Onomi finally cracked an eye open. He saw Remel's thighs as she knelt at his side, and behind her was the wooden wall of a wagon.

"I..." he rasped. "...I never saw it."

"None of us did," she murmured. "It was blended in the grass, smell, sight, everything. Gods curse that bear's guts." She sighed, and Onomi closed his eye. Even though she seemed to be tough as bark, he was glad someone stayed near him in his time of pain. Her voice acquired an almost formal tone. "It was my arrow. I'm sorry."

Onomi almost felt the rough, sliding feeling of the arrow again, felt its sharpened, metal head rip out of him. He pushed it away, enjoying his relief too much to dwell on the pain of that morning.

"I forgive you," he whispered. "You were just trying to kill the bear. I thank you. You and the others."

Remel knelt near him another moment before sliding out of the wagon. The wagon bounced slightly as her weight left it, and Onomi let himself drift into sleep.


	5. Sounds in the Night

5: Sounds in the Night

A few weeks passed from the hunting incident. Onomi's back was crossed with scars where they had patched him with his own skin, and a white, star-shaped scar marked the back of his right shoulder.

Rich's caravan came to an area of the forest that had towers of rock jutting from its depths, and they had to navigate carefully over the trail as it became riddled with flat rocks that sometimes jutted out at awkward angles. Remel and her hunters took down game, and she ordered that Onomi stay from the hunt until his body fully recovered. To do his share, he skinned all the gutted prey they brought back, determined to earn his share of Remel's profits.

This pass along the Giga Track, known as the Dragon Jaw, lay between two obscure villages, and was not traversed often by the locals. It was scarce in prey, and said to be haunted by a family that had fallen off the cliffs ages gone.

The first night they camped, Onomi was caught in his dreams. He heard the chants filtering through the trees like a poisonous mist. They began to choke him and go into his ears and nose. He saw his _asha'jyu_ disintegrating out of his nose bridge. As the spirits tormented him, his dream ears heard a knock of metal against stone.

Onomi opened his eyes with a soft groan as the distant metal knock continued into reality. A dark, moonless night splattered with stars greeted him. He yawned and sat up. Campfires had died down into orange and black embers. His camp mates slumbered around their softly glowing fire pit, weapons nearby. Onomi, dressed only in his fur and leather thong, stood, ears pricked up at that strange sound. He searched the sleeping lumps of blankets again and found Remel's mat empty, her bow and quiver gone with her.

It was possible she had gone to investigate the sound herself. Onomi debated whether or not he should follow. He crept to her mat and smelled her all over her blanket and bedding. His nose swung around him, tracing the musky yet semi-sweet scent across the dirt, and he let that guide him out of the camp.

He followed her trail down the road a ways, the tinking sound becoming clearer. It would pound for a few seconds and then stop for a moment before starting again. Onomi's padded feet glided silently across the dirt and rocks, mane dancing in a warm night breeze.

The scent veered from the road and led into a patch of trees under one of the stone cliff towers. Heart pounding in a mix of excitement and nervousness, Onomi turned after it, slowing his pace. He stopped behind the ending line of the trees as he saw a familiar figure near the cliff wall.

He recognized Remel with his keen night sight. However, she was only dressed in a long garment that fell from her waist and between her legs, and her concealing cloak lay on the forest floor. She had her back turned to him, and leaned close against the rock, tail limp and laying in a layer of dead leaves and branches.

Onomi stared at her wings. The bottom halves of the wings were gone, bone and membrane, as if they had been raggedly ripped off. Her mane continued down between her wings to the tip of her tail, their tangled, haphazard locks matching the mutilated state of her wings.

His eyes moved to her head as she suddenly slammed the masked left side of it against the cliff again and again. It created that muted clinking that had entered his sensitive ears and into his dreams. Onomi felt an uneasy feeling slide into his stomach, wondering if Remel was mentally ill, going mad.

She stopped, resting her head against the cool stone, and he heard her sniff. Onomi then wondered if he was going mad, because he saw tears dribble down the bare side of her face, and she grimaced, eyes closed.

Onomi wasn't sure if he should try to go back to camp before she noticed him. However, the shaman still in him somewhere demanded action. Shamans were healers as well as warriors, and though he couldn't use magic to heal, perhaps just being here could help her.

Onomi stood and stepped into the opening, but stayed near the trees. The lore drake turned her head to him, blinking as if dumbstruck. A silence stretched between them. Onomi grunted and cleared his throat to break the tension of that quiet.

"Are you well?" he whispered, voice still sounding too loud. It was a foolish question; of course she wasn't well. But he didn't know what else to say to his superior.

Remel stared at him, red eyes almost glowing.

"You should be resting," she said, swallowing heavily.

"You too, if you don't mind me saying."

Remel let out a bitter laugh, turning to him and unfurling her wings halfway.

"I haven't been able to rest for the last eight years," she replied, her laugh dying in her words. "Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have your legs broken and never walk again? Well..." She twitched her wings closed and folded her arms. "So it is with my wings. My dreams taunt me with flight. I curse the day I lost them."

Onomi tried not to think too much about how it would be to live helpless without his legs.

"Go back to camp," she whispered, turning her eyes from him to gaze at the forest floor. "I'll be along shortly."

Onomi knew he should have obeyed that order, but that shaman in him felt he needed to stay. Remel cocked her head up, now glaring.

"That was an order, herder."

She tried to sound like her harsh self, but there were still tears glittering on her face. Onomi remembered Serem's words of Remel, of that "soft side."

"How did you lose them?" he demanded, sounding just as firm. He couldn't believe he was questioning Remel like this. She swept up her cloak, hunched her shoulders, and marched past him.

"None of your business!" she hissed. "Back to camp. Now!"

Onomi stood there facing the cliff still as anger wormed around inside of him. He had come to check on her, worried about her, and she repaid him with an acid tongue. Onomi shook his head and mane before tromping after Remel. When they returned to camp, she shoved herself under her cloak and blankets, back turned to the fire pit.

Onomi sat on his bedding a few minutes, leaning on his knees and refusing to look at Remel. He had failed yet again to find an answer. Perhaps the Guardian had cursed him to fail at everything, from hunting to learning about people.

His anger dulled at the thought, and he was about to drown himself in his pity again when he remembered Serem and her kind words and actions. He had not failed to befriend her. That was something. Thinking of Serem soothed Onomi's thoughts enough for him to catch some more sleep before dawn.


	6. The Hunter's House

6: _The Hunter's House_

Though Onomi had grown up among warriors, he had never learned to make his own bow. Shaman duties had taken up too much time for elaborate weapon-making. So he saved up his earnings from the meat sales, playing herder and sometimes bait in the hunts, and by the time they reached Scout Point, he had a hefty wallet of kurds ready to get him a fine hunting bow.

The caravan had left the Giga Track and alighted onto the main road that led into the Point's western gate. They crested over the rocky hills on the outskirts, the mid-morning sun gleaming down upon them as an ocean-born breeze swept cool air into their faces. Onomi's eyes were fixated upon the great blue expanse to their right. It was huge, forever long, disappearing over Gaia's belly. He tore his gaze from the ocean as the road evened out and the city wall and gate reared over them. Onomi heard the hum of people within, and he swallowed.

The gate guards admitted Rich and his people into the city. Onomi's eyes darted around at the amount of people and buildings around him, moving colors and wafting smells of perfume, dead fish, and waste hitting his nose. It all seemed to surround him, bear down on him...he unconsciously pressed against the wagon side as it rolled, overwhelmed as his breathing came fast and his hackles rose all along his spine.

Small towns and villages and tribes had been one thing. This city was a hive of sentience that threatened to eat him with all its complexity and talk and business and smells and sounds and sights. Onomi felt his mind whirl all of a sudden, and he closed his eyes and shook his head.

One of the hunter trolls, whose name was Arratal, touched his shoulder. Onomi's eyes snapped open and he shrugged.

"I'll be fine," he rasped, although he wasn't fine. "I'm fine."

"If you fall over, Remel won't like hauling you in her wagon," Arratal grunted. "I guess that wouldn't happen if your _asha'jyu_ worked."

Onomi stared as Arratal kept walking along with the wagon, and for the first time in a long while, his suppressed shame tore out from his inner bubble, laughing and roaring at him. He was a failure. He was broken. He wasn't shaman. He was an outcast.

Onomi was tempted to challenge Arratal to defend his honor, as was his right among fellow trolls, but he withheld. Now was not the time or place for it. Besides, was there really any honor left to defend? Onomi laid his ears back. More time to think on that later; right now he needed to find a bow.

There were _some_ familiar things about the city that kept him from cringing further at the enormity of it all. Vendors and booths were set up all along the streets leading from the gate, similar to Rich's set-up at the different stops. He kept his green eyes sharp for hunting tools, and grinned when he saw at least three different booths along the way that held weaponry.

However, he couldn't stop at them and look. Rich was taking his caravan to a district in the northwestern part of the city, and his vendors would settle in before doing their business in the city. Onomi tried to remember the road as they took several turns. He looked at signs too, although he couldn't read half of them. Onomi saw colors and shapes, smelled scents sweet and sour. No village should smell so awful.

Rich led them to an area that had dozens of caravans, with parked wagons and animals around a square with a fountain at its center. A muscular stone dragon without wings reared at the center of the fountain, with water pouring from his mouth. The caravan settled itself into a corner of the square, and Onomi asked Remel permission to explore for a bow. She lifted her brows as she leaned against one of her unharnessed horses.

"You have any idea where you'll find one?" she asked.

"I saw some sellers on the road in," Onomi said. "Lots of tools there."

Remel chuckled and shook her head.

"That's cheap garbage for tourists or a one-time job," she replied. She turned to her horses and took their halter leads. "Let me get the horses settled, and I'll show you where to get a _real_ bow."

He stiffened at her offer. Never before had she deigned to serve him. It had only been the other way around. Remel didn't seem to notice the way his body froze in shock at her genial attitude as she led the horses to the fountain for a drink. Onomi checked his money bag in the meanwhile, and Remel led the horses to the wagon and tied them to a side-railing bolted into the wagon box.

"Arratal, babysit the horses," Remel ordered the dark brown and black spotted troll. "I'll be back in about two hours."

"Two hours...?" Onomi whispered. Was she taking him to the other side of the city?

"You babysitting Onomi?" Arratal called after her with a laugh. She waved to him as they walked side-by-side into the city.

Onomi remained silent as Remel took paths he didn't know, back and forth, up and down some stairways, through a jungle of dead wood and stone and cement. People's voices rung through the buildings, some from places Onomi couldn't see. When they weren't being hounded by vendors or the odd person on the street that wanted to say hello or make a rude comment, Onomi eyed Remel's equally silent countenance, searching for answers in her draconic posture and eyes and movement. Why the sudden want to help him?

After thinking a bit more, he sighed at the answer. She was tired of him not bringing down his share of meat. But that didn't make complete sense; other hunters had played herder before Onomi came along, even with their tools, so he wasn't a special case. Everyone earned their share. And if she really didn't care, she would have let him buy the "tourist garbage" and make a fool of himself with a broken bow limb or string.

Onomi had possessed a wonderful bow back in the village, the same he used to take down the ice raptor and earn his _asha'jyu._ However, he had left it in his hut when he went on the shaman journey to the Sanctuary. He had suppressed regrets for leaving Mej-Gurk behind, but his bow was one regret that was very hard to push down into that inner bubble that hid all his guilt and shame.

 _I will find one better, stronger, more durable,_ he assured himself, although even he had to admit it would be hard to beat the craftsmanship of his old bow, which he had inherited from his mother. He looked at Remel again and knew he could trust her judgment about a bow; who knew how long she had been hunting, even before joining Rich?

About half an hour passed before Remel pointed them to a two-story building on a main road. Its exterior was clean and in good shape, similar to the neighboring buildings. People in embroidered and finely stitched clothing patrolled this road, with very few of the poor in between.

"This place is called _The Hunter's House,"_ Remel explained as they passed under the building roof overhang and to the stone doors. Onomi nodded and stepped in.

They entered a broad room packed with all sorts of weaponry and tools, of clothing of cloth and leather, along with some lighter armors. All the items were organized, and hung or sat neatly on racks or shelves. Onomi breathed deeply, cherishing the scent of oiled leather. Remel took him to a wall covered in bows, and his eyes glittered at the variety before him.

"How may I help you, travelers?"

They turned to an average-height man with a goatee on his tanned face. He wore green and blue clothing, rich colors to Onomi. He held his hands up in a friendly gesture, and Remel returned the movement. Onomi quickly followed her lead, and the man smiled at him.

"Are you here for a bow, sir?" he said, approaching the rack. "I have several quality recurve bows ideal for the silent hunter."

"There's that dark brown one up there I want to look at," Remel said, pointing. The man retrieved a nearby rod with a padded hook on it, and he gently lifted the bow from its wall hooks. He held it out to the troll and lore drake, and Remel gestured to it.

Onomi gripped the handle and lifted it to his face, scenting the wood at once. It was the flesh of a _jiaba_ tree, the same wood used by warriors in his village for bows. It was stained and polished well. Onomi swung the bow between his legs, hooking the lower limb over his opposite furry foot and pulling the upper limb down as if he were stringing it. It resisted, but didn't wear him out bending it.

"It has about a fifty pound draw," the man explained, nodding appreciatively at Onomi's knowledge of using the bow. "I crafted it myself."

Onomi released his pressure and held the bow in both hands, looking up and down its length. It felt good in his grip, light, and the length seemed right too. He ran his fingers lightly over one of the limbs. He had never held a finer bow in his life, and he hoped he could afford it.

"I have never doubted your quality, Jasaph," Remel commented with a small smile. "The bow I bought from you has saved my life multiple times." She grasped Onomi's shoulder, and he flinched. "This is Onomi."

"Onomi, I'm Jasaph, master archer and craftsman," he said, lifting his hands again. "I'm always glad to meet new customers. And for being new here, I'll give you a fourth discount on that bow."

"That would be...good," he finally said, blinking. He wasn't good at math, but he knew what a discount was.

"You'll need a quiver and some arrows," Jasaph said, turning. "Follow me, sir."

Onomi almost felt like a child getting sweets for the first time in weeks. It was a thrilling sensation to get something new. Jasaph led them to some nearby shelves and hooks. The shelves held tied bundles of various arrows, and from the hooks hung back and hip quivers. There were also sling quivers like the one Remel wore across her lower front.

Onomi knew he wouldn't need a lot of arrows for the hunt, and he could make more arrows if necessary, so he took the smallest bundle that held ten arrows with sharp, steel tips. Next he studied the quivers, and knew a sling quiver was the best for hunting in the dense jungle of Kura-Cora. He chose a simple one that had one pocket on the outside. Like all of Jasaph's quivers, it had a thick inner leather layer and an ebony insert on the bottom to keep the quiver pocket from being destroyed by hunting tips.

Onomi ended up emptying most of his wallet for his purchase, but he hardly cared. It's what he had worked for these last few months. Jasaph took the bow back into his crafting shop for a few minutes to measure a new string and string the bow.

When Jasaph returned and gave the bow to Onomi, Onomi thanked Jasaph profusely, bowing at his waist and muttering blessings upon the man's head. It was the best way he knew to express his gratitude except for doing a good deed for the other person.

"You have repaid me, friend," Jasaph said with friendly laughter. "May that bow serve you well, and maybe we'll see each other again?"

"I hope so," Onomi said. "Your shop is so big, good for such a big village."

Jasaph laughed again, and Onomi grinned as his ears flushed in some short-lived embarrassment. Even Remel managed her raspy chuckle, and she and Onomi left the shop. He held the bow against the crook of his elbow, holding it like a new cub.


	7. Sinners

7: Sinners

Onomi and Remel made their way down the main road. Several people stared at the odd pair, but then passed on. Stranger things happened in Scout Point.

"Thank-you," he said softly.

"For what?" Remel snapped.

Onomi almost rolled his eyes, but knew that could make Remel angry. She didn't like people sassing her.

"For bringing me to Jasaph's bows," he said, forcing patience into his tone. He shook away any little frustrations with the lore drake, knowing he could think better than that. "You must be a good hunter to know where to get such tools."

She shrugged. They walked for a few more minutes before Remel spoke again.

"I've hunted a long time," she said. "It was just more recently, when I joined the caravan, that it became my life. Before that, it was just a hobby."

"What did you do before?" Onomi asked automatically. He realized how rude that question could be, remembering how Serem described Remel as being broken and beaten when she found the caravan.

Onomi felt bad when Remel let out a sigh, her stride long and determined. He could see the way her muscles tensed, and heard how her breathing became shorter, strained. Onomi kept up with her, turning his eyes to his bow and his sling quiver. Having these new things didn't seem so important anymore with his companion in a low mood.

Remel paused before a small cafe. There were a few tables inside, mostly empty.

"Hungry?" she asked, jerking a thumb towards the aromatic interior. "This place has jelly-filled buns."

Onomi had no idea what those were. His food had been mostly meat, with a little plantation here or there. However, Remel's judgment had proven true with his new hunting tools, and he decided to trust her here too.

They went to the counter, and Remel ordered the buns for both of them, as well as cups of cinnamon hot chocolate. They settled at one of the tables, and Onomi sniffed at his jelly-filled bun. There was a smell of wild berries about it. He bit into it, and something soft and slimy exploded into his mouth and dripped over his chin fur. He automatically spat some of it out, but then stopped when sweetness filled his mouth. He licked the blue jelly off his face and stuffed the rest of his bun in, struggling to chew the unfamiliar textures with his sharp molars.

Remel ate hers with much more dignity, although she was smiling at him. When he looked at her, the smile vanished and she looked away. Onomi paused, still bent over his plate of buns, one paw holding a helpless pastry.

"Why do you help me?" he said.

She sent a half-hearted glare his way.

"Is it wrong to help someone?" she demanded.

"Well, no," he grunted. "When I first came to the caravan, you treated me like a sickness, tolerating me only because I could bring in more meat. Ever since my first hunt, you've helped me out. Why?"

She clicked her teeth a few times, swirling her mug but not drinking.

"I sent you into incredible danger, and then almost killed you," she admitted, trying to make it sound obvious, but Onomi heard a great softness instead. "I am trying to make it up to you."

"Your healing was well enough," he said. He bit carefully into the pastry, determined not to spill anymore of the jelly, chewed, and swallowed. "But I guess we all need to give each other...jelly buns once in a while."

"That was deep, Onomi," she said, the smile returning to her voice. He bowed his head.

"I do my best," he replied, grinning again. That was the first time she had ever addressed him by name. Usually it was "hey you," "You," or "herder."

"So, what made you suddenly dump yourself onto Rich's caravan?" Remel said before sipping her drink. Onomi's eyes flickered down, and his whole body wanted to slump back into the chair and disappear so he wouldn't have to answer. Remel watched him, and when he didn't answer right away, she added, "Heard you didn't want to go home, and that you don't do magic, even though you look like a troll shaman."

"Both are true." Onomi took a deep breath, and he reluctantly opened his inner bubble and let out some of the guilt and shame. He looked at Remel. "In the way of our shamans, I went on pilgrimage to receive the blessings of our village's guardian spirit and become a full shaman. The Guardian turned me away and took away my spirit magic."

"Was there any reason?"

Onomi shivered at the anxiety that suddenly filled him. Should he confess? Did Remel need to know? She watched him, all ears, ready to hear anything. Time seemed to stand still, and he couldn't seem to turn his gaze from the lore drake's silver and green face.

"Years ago I...I gave away my virtue to someone," he muttered. "I'm not married. I should have confessed to the shamans, and I didn't. The Guardian knows all the hearts and minds of its people, and it knew mine."

Remel stared silently at him, and he looked away with a grimace. His high spirits from the day were crushed. Remel, a stranger from who-knew-where, suddenly had the information to make a judgment about him. She couldn't trust him anymore. She would think him unfaithful, evil, worthless. A failure.

Remel took another drink, breaking her intense gaze, and then gestured at his mug.

"Drink," she said with no anger or malice in her voice. "Chocolate makes you feel better."

Fingers shaking in a bizarre mix of nerves and relief from confessing, Onomi took the mug and took a sip. A rich, bold flavor tinted with a more familiar cinnamon taste flowed across his tongue. The liquid was creamy and soothing to his nerves, and it settled like a cloud in his stomach.

"We're not so different, you and I," Remel murmured, tapping her claws over a jelly bun. "We're both guilty."

Onomi straightened his posture some. He had expected Remel to scoff at his guilt, or be indifferent to it. They were employer and employee, after all. Personal matters didn't truly matter...at least, Onomi hadn't thought they would.

"Technically I'm a priestess among my people," Remel said, turning one red eye to him. "I entered the Temple of Hanedoe an orphan, and spent years training my spiritual strength and magical arts. My greatest desire was to be a Lady of the Lady, servant of the Healer, the Mother of all Laiune." Onomi stared, not completely understanding, and Remel tilted her head down a little. "Hanedoe is one of the gods of the lore drakes, and her temple is in Cardmov, a land far southwest of here."

He nodded, ready to drink in more of her words as he gulped down another mouthful of chocolate.

"During my training as a priestess, I fell in love with a soldier from the nearby fortress," Remel continued. "After my initiation to the priesthood, him and some of his friends threw a celebration for me. Our group camped underneath the stars, eating and drinking and speaking of our futures. By this time I was head over heels in love with my soldier, and was subject to his whim without really realizing it. He saw me as his angel, his one true love.

"He wanted to speak to me alone, and he led me away, out of sight of the others. I could sense the impatience in him, the way his love burned for me. He told me he loved me, and wanted to marry me, but that he was worried there was no time before his unit was transferred. He wanted proof then and there of our love."

"Did you...?" Onomi dared to breathe.

"Break my virtue? Yes, but probably not in the way you're thinking," she said, voice a little wistful. "I certainly knew what he was thinking, and I knew I needed to somehow persuade him from doing that only the wedded do. But neither did my air-headed sense of love want to make him mad by walking away from the situation, which I should have done to begin with."

She shook her head, her voice swollen with regret.

"When one becomes a priestess or priest of Hanedoe, they are given a sacred item called a _seiong_ ––a talisman, you may call it––created by the goddess Herself for her loyal servants. We are to keep the _seiong_ secret, and not to show it to anyone save to our spouse. This talisman has its own name and contains special blessings, as well as the magic bonds of oaths a priestess takes before Hanedoe. These talismans are akin to our virtue, so sacred that we should be willing to die before showing or giving them to anyone unworthy.

"But I damaged my virtue before the goddess. I should have realized how unworthy my soldier was just by his lustful intentions that night. Afraid to break my chastity, but also afraid to anger him, I showed him my talisman. I even let him hold it! He recognized it for what it was, and was content––mostly."

Onomi saw the _asha'jyu_ along his nose, sacred talismans to him, and wondered what it would be like to let just anyone take them off, just to please them, yet not anger them. He understood her feelings then, how hard it would be to turn away someone more powerful but whom you loved. The chieftain's daughter had been that way, although he hadn't held her because he was afraid of her.

"My shame was great. After a few weeks into my duties, I confessed to a High Priest, my overseer. He was the one who had fashioned and set my mask on my head." She trailed the jewels on her mask with two fingers. "He was sad, to say the least. Disappointed, but not without hope. Both of us knew the consequences of my actions. He told me I must go on a journey of penance, and not return to the Temple of Hanedoe before a year was over.

"This pilgrimage was to take me to the Temples of Kem and Blayde to pray for forgiveness before I returned home –– to Hanedoe's Temple, that is, to beg forgiveness of her. The time of a year was to prove my dedication to the gods despite my great sin. It is a common prescription for priests and priestesses who break the highest of holy laws."

"Where are these other temples?" Onomi asked before slowly biting into his last jelly bun.

"Kem's Temple is in Genkai, south of Kura-Cora. Blayde's Temple is in the Black Crystal Mountains," Remel explained. "So, the High Priest held onto my _seiong_ , putting it in a safe and sacred place, and sent me on my way. I made it to Genkai and prayed to Kem, earning his forgiveness. It took me some time to travel to Kura-Cora, and I had to wait in Scout Point for a Laiuna military unit to arrive, who had agreed by letter to guide me to the Temple of Blayde.

"The unit was small; they were a group of scouts, and while some of our warriors use wyverns or drakes, small dragons, to fly, these ones used their own wings. I flew with them, and we came to the mountains."

Remel stopped suddenly, her hold on her mug tightening. The cup began to tremble from the force, and Onomi expected the handle to snap away from the mug. Remel let go of the mug and tucked her hands into her armpits, shoulders hunching as her memories poured forth.

"A great rain storm set in, and we were forced to the ground. The commander insisted we keep walking on a trail that led in the general direction of the fortress Dun Ki Ahng, where the Temple is. I would have rather waited it out, but we followed him anyway.

"The path took us along a cliff side crumbling away to time. There were cracks and loose rocks all over it. Little streams fell from it. We didn't think anything of the cliff, especially since the trail dove back into the jungle only a dozen yards away. But lightning hit the cliff, and a rock slide came down.

"The soldiers saw it before I did and ran ahead. I had been dazzled by the lightning, temporarily blinded, and when I saw the boulders coming, it was too late. They crushed me like a fly. The rocks crushed my limbs, snapped my wings. Along with the larger rocks were dirt and pebbles and stones...it was suffocating. I was sure I would die before my penance was complete."

She took some deep breaths, still trying to calm her obviously roiling feelings.

"Do you need more chocolate?" Onomi inquired, offering his half-full mug to her. Remel accepted it without hesitation, downing the sugary drink and sighing.

"I laid under the slide for what seemed an eternity. I couldn't hear or see anything because my head was covered up to my nose. I think the soldiers may have tried to find me, because I felt some pressure from the rocks let up...but then they left. They abandoned me. I must have been there for two days, and they never sent help from Dun Ki Ahng.

"I felt pain throughout my wings, mostly. I determined my other limbs were still functional, and a little at a time I wriggled towards the least pressurized part of the rock pile. It took me another full day to get out, and when evening came, I managed to get my head and torso out before fainting on the rocks.

"When I awoke, I still found myself alone, broken, and helpless. My wings had been mutilated, most of the joints snapped and fractured. The rest of me was bruised and sore, scales ripped away to leave bleeding spots, my clothing ripped from my struggle outward. I climbed out and wandered down the trail. I don't know exactly where the fortress is, but I tried to go in the direction the scouts were taking. No matter what I did, though, I became lost in the jungle.

"I came to a realization, though. My people had abandoned me. Those soldiers normally worked rapidly to help their allies, and would have been back by the time I got on my feet again. Blayde's priests may have even been able to save my wings...no. Everyone left me. This was the punishment for giving away my spirit's virtue and blessings to a coward."

"Your journey is incomplete," Onomi observed, whiskers drooping.

"Yes...I walked and walked through the jungle. I don't know how I survived. I had to amputate my own wings, but I couldn't heal them." She met his eyes. "My _seiong_ granted me a blessing from Hanedoe to heal. I lost it when I broke my vow. Now, when people get hurt...I'm useless. I wanted to heal you, but..." Onomi felt a warmth in him, the same he had felt from Serem, as Remel revealed that part of herself. "I tried contacting my people, but aside from a few lone lore drakes, there's been no one." She bucked her head up with a snarl, her forelocks flying up and down, and then stood. "I'm done with this. I'm done with all of that. Let's head back before they miss us."


	8. Ice in Hand

8: Ice in Hand

As wet season arrived, Rich's caravan trod the Giga Track westward and made it back to Tal-Erth. Onomi looked forward to seeing Serem again, and wondered if she had made good on her promise to make him something special to purchase. He had even set aside a select amount of kurds for the deal.

Even though Onomi had been with the caravan for months now, the only real friends he had made were Serem and Remel. The other trolls in particular shunned him, knowing that there must be some shame behind the reason he still wore the _asha'jyu_ but didn't call the spirits. Onomi did his best to ignore them, but being around them always reminded him of home, and the further west they went, the closer they came to Mej-Gurk.

Remel never brought up Mej-Gurk, but sometimes when someone else mentioned it as one of their stops, she noticed the way he froze and looked up. Onomi in truth didn't know what to do, or what he _would_ do, but he knew one thing: he was never going back. He couldn't face his failure.

Once he had finished helping Remel spread out the meats, skins, and trophies, Onomi went into town to advertise for her. It was a downpour, and though the traders did their best to cover their products with overhangs, very few approached for a look. Onomi was determined to change that. He had more experience now in talking to people, and it was his goal to surprise Remel with how many people he could persuade to use their time to look at frozen chunks of flesh in the rain.

Onomi wore a simple oiled leather cape that covered his head and torso, allowing more movement for his legs. He searched the town center for Serem's booth, but of course, there were no Tal-Erth vendors out for business. Onomi's eyes passed over glowing windows and smoke curling out of chimneys. He sighed and started at the first building.

As Onomi advertised, he searched for the woman in red clothing and asked after her. They pointed her to a small home deeper in the village, past the business area. Onomi's patience began to wear down as he finished advertising to the shop owners and hurried to Serem's home.

His informant had mentioned that Serem's house had a bright red sign hanging over her door, and Onomi had no trouble spotting it through the blurring rain. He stopped at her door, cleared his throat and shuffled his muddy feet, and then knocked four times. Onomi realized how filthy he must be, and before he could think of how to keep from making himself look foolish, Sereme opened the door.

"May I help you?" she asked, voice raspy from sleep. She had pulled her hair up into a bun, but it was lopsided, and her red robe was a bit eschew. Onomi grinned.

"Do you always see trolls with three _asha'jyu?"_ he asked. Her eyes widened, and her sagging face brightened.

"Onomi!" she cried. "You're a mess! Are you still with the caravan?"

He nodded.

"Please, come in," she said, stepping to the side and waving to her warmly-lit home. He spotted a work table with a layer of jewels and metals in all sorts of shapes and sizes, and the smell of roasting hen hit his nose.

"I'm sorry, but I don't wear shoes," he said, lifting one foot. Serem blinked at his feet and quickly nodded to herself.

"No matter, I'll come out," she said. She swept out of sight and appeared a minute later, now donning boots and a thick red cloak. She fitted the hood over her head. "Is Remel her old crotchety self?"

Onomi wasn't familiar with the term "crotchety," so he didn't answer. Serem shrugged and closed her door before walking side-by-side with him to the caravan.

Remel stood from her purchase table when Serem came into sight, and the two greeted each other with a sisterly hug. Onomi stood off to one side, not wanting to intrude on their reunion, and eyed the meats. Some had been sold, and a crowd had gathered around the caravan, but it was not nearly the same size as it was on sunny days. He turned his eyes back to Remel and Serem as the human exchanged whispered words with the lore drake. He laid his ears back, forcing himself not to eavesdrop.

After their soft conversation, Remel motioned Onomi closer.

"I want you to pack one of the horses with ten of the five-pound packets, seven deer skins, and all the wolf skins," Remel ordered, blinking away moisture that fell from her eye ridges. Even though she had managed to stay out of the rain for the most part, humidity clung to her scales and mane and mask. "Also pack the small stag antlers, and two pairs of the ram horns. Take the horse into town and see if you can sell any the stuff in person. Clear?"

"Clear," Onomi agreed. He nodded to Serem and hurried to one of the tied-off horses to carry out his job.

His new task took three hours to complete. Most of the people in town didn't mind him returning to bring the products to them, and he even managed to sell some of the meat. There were a few that were exasperated with his efforts, and he got the impression that of those few, most didn't like the idea of a troll doing business with humans. Onomi did his best not to show his anger at these particular few, and quickly took his horse to the next building when he sensed the agitation. By the time he was finished and plodding back to the caravan, he was emotionally and physically drained.

Being out in the rain all day seemed to have worn his body down, and he looked forward to wrapping his blanket about himself and laying in a nice dry tent. Evening was close, and soon Rich's caravan would settle down for dinner and a good night's rest. Onomi led the horse to the meat wagon and unloaded whatever he hadn't sold from its damp back.

Remel sat at the desk writing something on a little paper. The other hunters stood or sat under the over-hanging canvas, not even willing to venture into Tal-Erth to buy a drink or look at the shops. When Onomi joined them, the trolls, who had stood close together, moved away from him as one. Onomi sighed and sat between them and the human and elven hunters, who didn't seem to notice Onomi.

He listened to the soft hiss of the rain against the forest. He tried to detect that spirit chant that had driven him to face the Guardian's burning wrath, but it was lost in the cool rain. Onomi closed his eyes with a deep breath to better listen, hearing individual raindrops closer by.

"Didn't you hear her?"

Onomi's eyes and head snapped up to Arratal, who had peeled himself from the the other troll and stood over Onomi, looking down his nose as if he had discovered a cub making mischief. Onomi next found Remel, who looked at him expectantly.

Onomi stood, making to pass Arratal, when the brown troll grabbed his shoulder.

"You may think you're her pet, but only the best hunters stick around, straight-back," Arratal growled in a whisper. Onomi grimaced at the insult. It implied Onomi didn't do work while the others broke their backs doing work instead. He used his forearm to slam Arratal's hand away before marching to Remel.

"Yes?" Onomi asked, trying to keep the anger away from his voice. Remel's eyes were now on the scowling Arratal, and as soon as the brown troll noticed Remel watching him, he turned to check the back of the wagon.

Remel stood and dodged around Onomi, her long tail sliding after her as she turned the corner of the wagon. Onomi heard some brief snarling and hissed words between Remel and Arratal, and Onomi cringed when Arratal loudly pronounced Onomi her "pet."

"If you want to be the pet, I know of a few nearby slave rings that would love to indulge you," Remel said just as loud. Her voice lowered into a growl, and Onomi, despite his way of not eavesdropping, was too surprised not to try and listen in. "We all keep our hands to ourselves. If you want to keep your pay, stop treating your own like dirt."

Remel reappeared, and Arratal stalked towards the town, keeping his eyes and head low.

"I have something for you," she said, reaching into an inside pocket of her cloak. "Me and Serem made it...she had some family business and couldn't give it to you personally."

Remel held out her scaly hand, revealing a pendant and chain. The pendant looked like quartz, carved like a three-inch fang with a silver panther winding around it. Onomi stared at it; he had never owned jewelry so fine!

"Well, take it!" Remel urged, pushing her hand closer to him. Onomi started, fingers trembling as he took the pendant and lifted it. The lore drake gave a short chuckle, and he fit it around his neck and through his mane. It hung down onto his chest, and glowed with a faint white light. "Well, Serem made it...I just threw an enchantment into the deal. Serem wants two hundred kurds for it."

"I'll pay her right––" He paused, looking up from the glinting pendant and cocking his head. "Enchantment?"

"If you touch it to something and cover the cat's eye with your finger..." She pointed at the miniature diamond in the panther's head, where it glared out at the world. "...it will cast a cold freeze spell over the object. Can come in handy in a tight fight, or if you need to freeze and store some food for a while."

Onomi nodded, enjoying the small weight around his neck. Even if the shaman magic had been burnt from him, at least he had a little magic from a friend.

"So, what sales did you make?" Remel said, walking past him and to her table. Onomi remembered his sale trip through Tal-Erth, and he hurried to the table to give her his profits.


	9. Warning

9: Warning

Onomi held the bow and arrow low, bowed over in a crouch as he stalked forward. The moist morning air filled his nostrils with scents of bark and dead leaves and wet earth, light dim in the moments preceding the sunrise. His padded soles made hardly a sound across the deadfall, and his soft fur silenced any other movements he made. As the warriors of Mej-Gurk put it, he was perfect for the hunt.

Onomi peered past his _asha'jyu_ and between a pair of light-colored jungle trees, whose roots were as smooth as stone. He paused in the shadows and took deep breaths. He discovered several different capybara smells, and he heard the lapping of water.

His hunter instinct warned him of an approaching presence, and he turned to his left, drawing his bow and pointing at a thick bunch of ferns.

"I know you're there," he rumbled, using Latis. "Out."

A troll woman came crawling out, fur matted with mud and leaves and small twigs. Her robe was crusted with mud, as if she had jumped into a wallowing hole and climbed back out. Onomi lowered his hunting tool at once, ears pricking up. The stranger looked at him briefly, blinking her eyes slowly to show she was no danger to him. His wide eyes immediately calmed at the gesture, but shock still filled him as she stopped a few feet away, curled her legs under her, and looked at his feet.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. Onomi scented her, and the coloring through the filth registered.

"Keera," he gasped. It was the daughter of Mej-Gurk's chieftain. His first urge was to lift her by the arm, but he withheld. His history with her made him afraid to touch her again, especially now that she was a married cat.

"Onomi," she moaned. "Thank the sky spirits you're still alive." She looked at his face, but didn't make direct eye contact. "We thought you were dead. You never came back from the Sanctuary." Her fingers suddenly dug into the dirt, and her eyes widened. "You abandoned us."

Onomi bore his teeth, any relief at seeing her vanishing like smoke in a gale.

"The Guardian abandoned _me,"_ he hissed, pounding a fist against his chest. "That cursed shadow from the Sanctuary, the guardian of our people, drove _me_ out! It grabbed my head and took the spirit magic from _me!"_

Onomi choked to a halt, eyes growing misty. Keera knew as well as he why the Guardian had denied him is rights as a shaman. Why he had failed the pilgrimage.

"A shadow?" she whispered.

She was quiet for a moment. Onomi prepared himself to turn away, hoping that maybe he could run form her and leave Mej-Gurk behind for good. He didn't want to ask why she was alone and looked like the bottom of a pig pen and smelled of rot. He didn't want to ask or answer anymore questions about what had happened. He turned partway before Keera lunged at him and grabbed his ankle. He snarled and lifted it, pulling her across the ground a few inches.

"That shadow burns the village, Onomi!" she cried. "That wasn't the guardian! The shamans say it is a demon! It fills everything with heat, and kills little by little. The shamans have no more magic. It's not the guardian! It has tricked you!"

Keera began weeping, whatever hardships of Mej-Gurk and her rough travel through the jungle finally crushing her into a helpless cub. At first her words went through one ear and out the other, but they returned to Onomi with the same force as the arrow through his shoulder.

 _It's not the Guardian. It tricked me._

"Is this true?" he gulped, not knowing what else to say. He needn't have asked Keera though; though they had committed a crime among their people and hid it, he had never known her to be much of a liar otherwise. And with what he saw of her now, trembling and grasping him like a log in a raging river...this was no lie.

"Come back, Onomi," she groaned, her tears wetting his knee. "Spirits, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!"

His heart almost exploded in his chest. His whole frame shook, his knees and ankles growing weak. The tears finally trickled from his eyes and dampened his facial fur, and his shoulders sagged. His soul cried for a release from all the years of guilt and shame...Keera was the first step.

"I-I...I'm sorry," he replied. "I took...I took away what belonged to your husband."

"They still don't know," she sobbed. "No one, father––the shamans, my mate...no one. Now they're dying."

Leaving Mej-Gurk in peace had been one thing to Onomi. They would have been able to live in peace without him, and he wouldn't have had to bear their looks of dishonor as they imagined why he had failed. But this shadow guardian...it had not been Mej-Gurk's guardian. It couldn't have known his sin. It and its following spirits had attacked him on purpose, sending its heat through him to render his spirit magic useless. Then he couldn't defend Mej-Gurk.

He processed the chain of events rapidly, and a righteous anger blossomed in his thundering heart. It was burning the spirit magic out of Mej-Gurk, and who knew what else it wanted to do? Onomi recalled his family and friends, and knew that even if he still didn't want to stay in Mej-Gurk, he at least needed to try and save it.

Onomi finally took Keera by one arm and lifted her.

"Lead the way back," he said. Her eyes darted over his, and for a second he searched for the love he had once held for this beautiful troll. However, it had withered away, and he could only see her as a fellow villager, a friend, and nothing more.

He didn't know if Keera held the same thoughts, but she nodded and plodded through the fern bush. Onomi glanced in the direction of the Giga Track, and then melted into the jungle after her.


	10. Black Fire

10: Black Fire

When they arrived at Mej-Gurk two days later, Onomi learned why Keera had taken a mud bath.

Circling the entire village was a semi-transparent wall of writhing black flames. It blackened bark and grass, sent up tendrils of smoke that created a haze above the rooftops, but didn't actually set anything afire. Nevertheless, Onomi could feel its heat from twenty yards off as they hid in the jungle surrounding the village. The village pond had somehow lost much of its water despite the wet season, and was now a puddle of mud that stretched under the barrier. He saw grooves and splashed mud where Keera had squeezed through and fled into the jungle.

Onomi sat stone still, breathing slow and steady to minimize his movement, as he observed the village. A few trolls wandered about, but it seemed most were in their huts. The roof of the chieftain's house bore an apparition of the black flames, dancing and waving though there was no wind.

"The demon used its spirits to lock all the shamans in the prayer house," Keera whispered. "It went in there once and burned all the good spirits out. It keeps my father and husband in there too." She gestured to the flame-crowned house of wood and fronds. "I escaped when I went out to relieve myself. Usually its bad spirits stop anyone from escaping, but it needs the bad spirits to search the others out for any of the magic. It did not see me."

Onomi grimaced, whiskers flattening under the _asha'jyu._

"Is the pond the only way in and out?" he said.

"As far as I know, yes." She turned her yellow eyes to him, and then looked down, posture poor. "Onomi, you don't have to go in...I must go back to my husband, but you can still be free. Maybe you can find help...?"

Onomi felt warmth at her loyalty to her mate, and he also thought of Rich's caravan. They had magic-makers...but would they be able to defeat so volatile a creature? It could remove a person's connection to magic with a mere touch. He thought then of Remel, how part of her powers had been temporarily withheld, and she was left with her ice magic. He hated to think of her facing the demon, and somehow losing what was left of her powers.

"I won't endanger anymore magic," he growled. He felt a cold sensation go up and down his spine at his next decision, and he blurted out before he could stop himself: "I will face the demon."

Keera stared, not bothering to be modest about how she looked at him this time. Onomi huffed to himself and removed all his clothing and tools down to his thong, setting them at her side. It would be easier to go in without his bow and arrows, and it was likely his old bow was still in the village. The only other thing that remained on him was the panther fang ice pendant. He touched her shoulder.

"Stay here," he hissed. "I will go in, and motion you if it's safe to follow. It's up to you to come back in now."

Before she could say anything else, he ran in a crouched position to the pond. His ears worked to catch any suspicious sounds, and he splashed into the mud and came face to face with the flames. Their smoldering heat made his eyes water and his skin tingle uncomfortably, and he admired Keera's courage in crawling under it.

Onomi gulped in a few breaths before slithering onto his belly and shoving himself into the two-feet deep mud. It squelched around him, and he grasped his way forward. His fingers pulled at slime and buried, rotting branches, and he thought he felt some dead fish crumble in his hands. He fought the nausea that rose in his throat and the mud that tried to keep him buried. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped the demon didn't have a good sense of smell, because he would smell of the dead when he arose from the pond.

Distantly he felt the line of demonic fire slide over his back, and as soon as the heat passed over his feet, he shoved himself upward with a gasp. He yanked his feet beneath him and stood, hunched over. He shook himself, mud flying and fur sticking out in clumps, and licked mud from his clogged nose and blinked open his eyes.

Onomi flicked his ears in a blur and froze when a low tune sounded around him. It imbued him with fear, and his body flinched as he started to move.

The earth seized his feet, and invisible hands grasped his wrists. He roared, and the hum turned into a bass chant, whispering dooms and curses. Onomi's breathing came as fast as the beating of his heart, pounding like a drum in beat to the chant.

Other villagers appeared and looked at him, stuck in the pond as invisible forces battled him for control over his own body. He recognized the people by face and name, but he wouldn't ask them to help him. What could they do, seeing as they hadn't been able to help themselves?

He felt the ethereal forces surround his torso and legs, and they pulled him towards the village. Onomi bore his teeth and spat and growled, but they were too powerful. The chants throbbed in his head, weakening his will to resist. With a final curse, he grudgingly allowed the demonic spirits to yank him forward.

He passed between several houses, the stares of trolls following him from inside their sanctuaries. Any outside backed away, giving the seemingly possessed, mud-ridden troll a wide berth. Though he looked like a swamp beast, did they recognize him? Onomi wanted to look at them closer, but the spirits held his jaw like a clamp, forcing him to look forward.

They brought him to the chieftain's possessed home. Onomi felt the heat emanating from the open door, and inside was only blackness. The chants fell abruptly silent, and a low, vibrating sound of energy came from inside the large hut.

" _You have failed, yet you have come back."_

He recognized the voice of the Guardian –– no, the demon –– in all its monotone darkness. Onomi snorted, his anger replacing his fear in a flash. He had been tricked out of being a full shaman! And though Onomi still had some spiritual repair to do in regard to him and Keera, he knew he had been purposely dealt a blow from the wrong spirit. Not only had he suffered, but now his people were suffering.

The anger was only a brief reprieve, from his fear, and he clenched his shaking hands into fists as he stepped in. The morning light only filtered in a foot through the door, and the hot, pulsing blackness kept it from going any further.

Onomi stopped in the dark when the heat intensified. He peered through the black, but even his night-sensitive eyes saw nothing but a void.

"You're a liar," Onomi called.

" _I tricked you,"_ the demon agreed. _"Ignorant one. In your ignorance, I drove another shaman away. You failed and ran. But the old ones knew I was not their Guardian. It didn't matter. We subdued them. Why come back?"_

Onomi remained silent, folding his arms and straightening. He had to appear unafraid, even though he felt like screaming and running for his life.

" _You will not answer,"_ it observed plaintively. _"I did not run away from Mej-Gurk. I have been watching your village for a long time. I've seen your sin, Onomi, and I played on your mortal guilt without saying a word. Yet you come back in face of that sin."_

An unpleasant shudder went through him at the thought of this demon watching him and Keera commit sin. Only the sick-minded watched people and their private affairs.

"I'll stop you," was all Onomi managed to rasp. "Where is our Guardian? Where have our spirits gone?"

A few moments of quiet passed before the demon rumbled, its voice like rocks tumbling down a cliff.

" _You act ignorant in this thing,"_ it moaned. The grinding and muttering noises echoed through the air while it spoke. _"You felt the fire. I burned the bridges between your shamans and the spirits. My spirits drive the others away. This is_ my _forest."_

Two eyes split open in the dark. They were white save for three vertical black slits in each. The eyes focused on him, wide and without emotion.

" _Your Guardian has fled my forest,"_ it ground on. The rumbling grew louder, vibrating the house. Onomi felt bits of dead fronds patter over his shoulders. _"It abandoned you. I took its place."_

He grabbed his ears. The quaking of the air seemed to pierce his mind, and he snarled, bowing over.

" _You are mine to do with as I please,"_ the demon said. Its eyes turned in opposite directions, looking at things Onomi couldn't see. The troll glared at the eyes, and a burning hot, white substance dripped from them as they rolled everywhere except towards Onomi. The heat became unbearable as the rafters shivered, and Onomi finally turned and fled from the hut. The demon's voice chased after him like the dead calling from the grave.

" _You came again, and you failed again."_


	11. A Flame Dies

11: A Flame Dies

Everywhere Onomi went the rest of the day, he could feel the demon spirits on his heels. They watched him like a jaguar watched a wounded rabbit, ready to strike if he made the wrong move.

Failure. Failure. The word rung back and forth in his mind, and it threatened to bring him to his knees. Onomi stopped at the prayer house, gulping and knowing he had to confess another failure to the shamans.

The prayer house was the only stone structure in the village. It had been built by the First Ones, the ancestors of Mej-Gurk, and it was here they had received the first spirit blessings from the Guardian before it returned to its Sanctuary. Elegant pillars of basalt rose thirteen feet and held up a precisely carved roof that hung over the entrance, its short wall carved with many trolls and spirits.

Onomi gazed upon the sacred edifice, his eyes growing watery from the well of emotion that sprung up in his heart. He could have warned the shamans of what took his spirit magic away. He could have confessed his sins and been worthy before the real Guardian. He had failed.

Onomi sucked in a breath and straightened. The time of failures was past. He had started his spiritual cleansing first through Remel, and then Keera. He was on his way. He just needed to finish his task. He repeated to himself these small successes, and the darkness that surrounded his heart seemed to dissipate a little, and he even thought the bad spirits drew away from him, enough so he didn't feel hunted.

But the prayer house was still locked. Onomi went up the small stair case and stood before the arched door. It was carved with three mountains, the peaks of which a shaman could see from the Guardian's Sanctuary. In the middle of the door was a disk with a single hole in it, and it was smothered in black flames.

The whole door held that unnatural heat, but it was not so hot that he couldn't stand it. Onomi stared at the lock, and then fell to his knees. Mud flaked and cracked from his fur, and he felt something try to rip itself from his mane.

Onomi grabbed at it in alarm, and then felt the familiar shape of the panther pendant. The object began to cool rapidly in his hand, and he released it with a hiss. He remembered that if he covered the panther's diamond eye with his finger and touched the crystal to something, it would freeze it. Onomi lifted it more carefully on its chain and rubbed mud from it. The silver and polished crystal gleamed as he cleaned it. The ferocious panther seemed to challenge him with its gaping mouth, and Onomi looked at the writhing flames before him.

Carefully pinching the metal between his fingers, he covered the eye and held the crystal a little into the scalding flames. He ground his teeth as the fires began to singe his fur, but the crystal cooled in a white glow. The flames hissed and flickered erratically. Bolstered by their retreat, Onomi pressed his pendant deeper into the flames. The black fires moan and parted around his hand, and the quartz clicked against the lock. The black fire gave a low scream and vanished.

Onomi grinned, but his joy faltered as he realized that he couldn't open the door without the key. Surely the demon had the key...he stood, berating himself for not thinking ahead, and turned.

He started as he walked into the chest of another troll, and he stumbled back. He gasped when he saw the troll for who he was.

"Father," he breathed.

"Son," he grunted, folding his arms across his black spotted chest. Under the black was a pelt of gold, turning into thick black stripes on his back. Like Onomi he wore several beads in the longer hair along his neck. "You've returned to our mess after running away."

Onomi turned his eyes to Hotomi's cheek, taking his voice as a challenge.

"I came back, father," he murmured.

"You abandoned us before the demon came," Hotomi growled. "Now the demon has the shamans trapped in the prayer house. You should be in there with them."

Onomi stood there, stunned and speechless. He had hoped for a welcome embrace from his family upon returning...but to be honest, he had never expected welcome. Not after his failure at the Sanctuary. He considered himself fortunate his father decided to speak with him at all.

"I have come to stop the demon," Onomi said, straightening his posture. Hotomi eyed him, lip twitching.

"With what? If you had the spirits, you would have opened the prayer house." The older troll waved a hand. "The best you can do is clean yourself up. You smell like a dying pig."

Hotomi shrugged to himself and left Onomi at the prayer house door. The exchange had been short, but it left Onomi trembling, and he felt like ripping something apart.

Ever since his wife died, Hotomi had become harder on Onomi for things that used to be small matters. After they had buried his mother, Onomi found himself having to live up to higher and higher standards of honor and trust with his father, and he had been glad to join the shaman coven and move into his own hut. Even if Onomi had somehow become a guardian spirit someday, he would still be a failure in his father's eyes.

Onomi stomped from the prayer house and remembered Keera, so he made his way back to the pond. Like sniffing wolves, he still sensed the spirits several yards behind him, and Onomi felt a pang of fear when he thought of the spirits telling the demon about the prayer house door.

He went around the shore of the pond and stopped about ten feet away from the demonic wall flames. He craned his head to the side, trying to find his companion, but she made no indication she was even still there.

Onomi glanced at the mud, and then crouched and grabbed more mud and sand. He rubbed it over his torso, making it look like he covered his pendant back up with an accidental swipe of slime. Onomi sighed and took deep breaths to calm his jumpy mind, and then knelt for some meditation. The spirits gingerly approached him, and he kept his eyes closed against their forceful presence.


	12. Sacrifice

12: Sacrifice

Onomi discovered that evening that his hut had been torn down, with only a foundation of interlocked stones left. Any other rubble and ruin had been cleared away, and he noted with distaste that someone had carved a troll skull without its lower jaw in the centerstone. It was a sign of death and shame.

Onomi knew that once a person in the village died, their possessions were allocated to all in the village, not just to family. His prized bow could be anywhere. He snarled and smacked the skull carving with the palm of his mud-caked hand before skulking away to find a place to rest that night.

Onomi chose a tree at the edge of the pond and sat under it with a huff. The skin along his shoulders and obliques twitched at the mud, longing to be washed clean. He scratched lightly at these places, but not for long. Trolls had an instinctive tendency to keep cleaning when they started, using claw and tongue and water and whatever else could help, but Onomi had neither the time or will to clean himself right then.

He stared at the pit of mud, where cool clear water used to ripple under a moist jungle breeze. The demon must have dried the pool to put his flames over it, just as it had vaporized his connection to the spirit world. For the first time since leaving the Sanctuary months ago, Onomi swallowed a wedge of his pride and tried to reach out his senses to the spirits of earth, jungle, and sky. He felt for any tell-tale warmth from his _asha'jyu_ telling him the spirits were listening, but they did nothing. His powers, once so potent, like a fire in his heart, had been ripped from his body by an imposter. Onomi closed his eyes and laid on his back with a grunt.

He must have dozed off, because when his eyes snapped open, the stars winked down at him from between the gently shifting boughs of the tree. Onomi's eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, and he sat up as he heard murmuring voices from the village.

Onomi felt a warning in his gut not to go to the village to investigate. He growled at himself. Where else did he have to go? Through the wall flames? To flee Mej-Gurk? To sit here while the demon spirits crept around him? He swiped his claws through his matted mane irritably, his fingers brushing his pendant chain, and marched towards the village.

He stopped after a few feet and noticed something. The oppressive presence and hum of the spirits had gone. Onomi listened to the troll voices congregating, putting it together with the absence of the spirits at his heels, and he gulped when he decided the demon was up to something.

He broke into a sprint, dodging between homes, and jogged to a stop at the edge of a group of villagers. They were in a crescent before the chief's hut, which was no longer crowned with the writhing flames. Onomi felt familiar waves of heat pulsing over the group, and there was spirit humming and a vague chant coming from the center of the trolls' attention.

Onomi pushed through the villagers and came to the inside edge of the crescent. Standing outside the chief's house was the demon, tall and black. It was hunched over, its alien eyes sliding up and down, left and right over the villagers.

" _It is the night of sacrifice to keep the flames strong,"_ the demon called, its voice booming over their heads. _"Who will volunteer, that the others may live?"_

Many trolls sent worried glances at each other, brows wrinkled and ears lain back. Some simply looked down or away from their fellows, too ashamed to admit they were afraid to protect them. Onomi tried to puzzle what the demon meant. He shivered to think that this demon was killing his people, and that righteous anger he had first felt when he learned of Mej-Gurk's trouble flared up in him, and he stepped forward, separating from the comforting group of his brethren and into the presence of evil.

"Leave them alone," he said. He quaked uncontrollably, his joints threatening to collapse him as the demon turned its wandering gaze on him and he felt the earth trembling under his feet. "I-I-I will sacrifice."

The demon gave a mirthless laugh, lifting a hand to point at Onomi.

" _Behold the one free shaman, mortals of Mej-Gurk,"_ the demon rasped. _"He ran away, giving me even more opportunity to rule over you. In him was a great sin. He has laid with Keera chieftain-daughter, and confessed to no one. He broke his sacred vows. I took away his spirit magic. He is useless, a fraud. Do you still wish to see him go?"_

Onomi grimaced and closed his eyes. It was the moment he had so feared, of everyone learning his secret. He couldn't bear to look at them for a reaction. He laid his ears tightly against his head to block out as much sound as possible, and breathed through his mouth, lest even smell gave away their horror and disgust.

"Onomi?"

His head whipped around as he looked for the familiar voice. There, gathering at the group's edge, were his two brothers and two sisters. His youngest sibling, his sister Amani, had spoken. All looked on him wide-eyed, disbelieving.

Onomi had seen his family roving through the village, but he had only spoken to Hotomi so far. He hadn't wanted to give himself away; it was one reason he had kept his muddy shell on. He looked upon them longingly, deathly afraid of their condemnation. Then Hotomi appeared behind them, his expression dark and brooding.

"Let him go," his father announced. The trolls gasped and muttered to each other, and Hotomi's offspring turned to him, mouths gaping. Onomi felt as if a dagger had pierced his heart, and his hands curled into fists. "Perhaps his sacrifice will atone for his sin."

This last statement was suddenly met with several voices of approval. Amani cried out, falling to her knees and weeping. Onomi's older brother shoved past Hotomi with a snarl and disappeared. His last two siblings simply stared at Onomi, not knowing what to do. He nodded to them, refusing to look at his father again.

" _All of you have decided his fate,"_ the demon hissed.

"I will go, on the condition that you leave Mej-Gurk forever," Onomi said, folding his arms tightly to control his fear-wracked limbs. "If you don't do this, then I will not be the sacrifice, but will fight you, and free the other shamans."

He gagged and choked as an invisible force seized his throat and squeezed. Other entities grabbed his arms and legs. The demon's eyes began to roll opposite ways again.

" _You have chosen your fate,"_ it said. _"You have no right to bargain. This is my forest. You are my sacrifice."_

The spirits chanted low curses into his ears. Onomi watched the demon spirit lift itself from the ground a couple of feet, its smoky black feet dangling, and it headed around the building and to the north end of the village. Onomi coughed as the hold on his throat disappeared, but the spirits forced his body forward, and he stumbled away from the cowed onlookers of Mej-Gurk.


	13. Sealing Stone

13: Sealing Stone

The demon parted the wall flames and led Onomi through. The fires crashed against each other in closing, and the demon drifted into the trees, looking like a hanging corpse whose living eyes scanned the trail before them.

Onomi struggled against the grips of the spirits around him, his head throbbing at the continued chants they boomed at him. The heat from the demon made him dizzy, but no matter how much he wanted to fall and regain his senses, his feet moved against his will, dragging through dirt and pebbles and deadfall.

The trail eventually disappeared, putting them into a true wilderness. Onomi's muscles burned from his fight, and despite his spirit's protests, he gave up resisting and let the spirits drag him forward. They were not gentle as they pulled him, his feet dragging behind him, following their dreadful master like wolves yanking a dead catch with them.

Onomi fainted from all the strain and heat, and he woke up when his head thudded against the ground and the breath fled from his lungs. He gasped in air and coughed, pushing himself up and shaking his still aching head. He groaned, squinting and looking up.

Before him rose a granite obelisk, pointing towards the night sky. He lay on a series of roughly hewn steps that led to its face. On the obelisk's surface was a glowing white design lined by small black flames. To the left of it were two carved circles, filled with black fire. Onomi's vision blurred when he tried to recognize the white runes, but his head snapped to the side as the demon floated up the steps and approached the glowing design.

" _Another soul to strengthen the seal,"_ the demon mumbled. _"Bring the sacrifice up."_

The spirits grabbed Onomi's arms and legs again. He let them, pulling enough strength into one arm to clench his hand around his mud-covered pendant. He wanted to feel the strength of the panther, knowing he was going to die. He may be failing again, but at least he could remember the kindness of his friends with his last breaths.

The demon spirits slammed his back against the wall and forced him to stand, pressing his shoulders against the stone. Onomi felt the pendant cooling rapidly in his hand, and the icy feeling was welcome in the sphere of heat the demon created.

" _Your heart and soul for the seal,"_ the demon moaned, and it opened a toothy mouth. More white substance dripped from it, hissing from existence as it fell onto the granite. It approached Onomi, reaching for Onomi's gripping hand. Onomi bucked his head up, knowing the demonic spirit would reach right into him, would wrap its claws around his thundering heart, would take hold of his substance and being...

Its hand passed right through his and into his torso, full of heat and pain. Onomi cried out, hand spasming open.

The pendant flared hot white, and the demon screamed, cursed glowing fluids flying from its mouth as it yanked away. Onomi coughed and hacked as the sucking feeling of the black hand ripping away from his bosom, and then looked up. The demon's arm was becoming encased in ice. The glowing ice crystallized up to its shoulder, and then spread in a blast of frost across its body.

It shrieked over and over, shrinking to the ground. The ice built on itself in layers, smothering the smoldering surface of the demon's body. Great clouds of steam burst up where the ice still tried to cover the open spots, and Remel's magic prevailed, sliding over the rest of the demon and pressing its being onto the granite.

Its screams suddenly ceased, and the demonic spirits fled from his presence. Onomi fell to his knees, staring at the mound of ice before him, and gripped his pendant in both hands. He tried to catch his breath, eyes wide.

He heard a soft singing from the obelisk. He turned and fell onto his bottom as the white runes glowed brighter and brighter, their light coalescing above him. As they did, the flames in the black circles puttered out, and Onomi saw two lights rise to the sky.

The greater light formed into the shape of a troll, and then alighted onto the stone before Onomi. He scooted back against the obelisk, breathing coming quick. He blinked as a lot of the light dimmed, revealing a female troll. Her fur was white with black rings, trailing under an exquisite green dress that shifted shades like leaves in the jungle canopy. Her slender head tilted down towards him, and he was caught in her jungle-green gaze.

" _Onomi, son of Hotomi,"_ she said. The singing fell silent, and an aura of peace fell over Onomi and calmed his breathing. _"With the death of the demon Amaas, his seal upon me and his other victims is broken. The sacrifices have gone to the Great Spirits, and I am free to watch over Mej-Gurk once again."_

She paused, as if waiting for him to speak. Onomi's mind, once a blank, now flooded with questions. They came all jumbled and couldn't quite reach his mouth, and he finally chose one and hoped it wouldn't offend the Guardian.

"How did it happen?" he gulped. "How did Amaas seal you away?"

" _Amaas feared cold the most,"_ the Guardian explained. _"Especially magic cold, such as touched him this night. But I am not a being of the cold. I was able to weaken him and his following spirits considerably before he overwhelmed me with his fires. He finally threatened to destroy Mej-Gurk if I didn't step down."_ She let out a long sigh, and a gentle wind blew around Onomi. _"I let him seal me away to protect my people...it seems only a few have died, thank the Great Spirits."_

Onomi looked down, feeling sick at how close to death _he_ had been. He could still see that black paw fading into his skin. He let out a clicking growl and tried to set aside that memory.

" _Amaas told me of you,"_ the Guardian said. Onomi's head snapped back up, and he felt his heart tighten in fear. The Guardian's expression was gentle. _"In his dire boasting, he told me of your sin, and of your failure. He mocked me, telling me not of worry of you. But I worry for all my children."_

"But Amaas was right," Onomi groaned, covering his face with a hand. "I did not confess to the shamans and renew my vows. Amaas burned away the good spirits from my presence. I am no longer a shaman."

The Guardian held out her paws, and soft light fell from her palms.

" _Onomi, do you renounce your sin before me, and will you allow me to renew the vows of your spirit?"_

He bent over onto his knees again and bowed, pressing his nose to the ground.

"Great and wise one," he whispered. "You would give me this mercy?"

" _The shamans of Mej-Gurk are beholden to me, for I am the Guardian of their forest,"_ she replied. _"I am able to restore all power and vows, if the shamans will but trust and follow my ways."_

"Then...then please, renew me," he rasped, tears dribbling over the mud on his face. "I-i-if it pleases you."

" _Rise, and let us renew."_

The command rung through the clearing like the bells Onomi had heard at Scout Point. He climbed to his feet, and the Guardian approached him. Though he stood at eight feet, she stood a full two heads above him. Her robes rippled like branches in a wind, and a scent of rain-soaked bark and new moss surrounded her.

The Guardian stood over him, and she lifted a finger to his _asha'jyu._ She touched them one at a time on both sides of his snout, chanting blessings upon him. Each time he felt the pressure of her claw on the raptor teeth, Onomi felt something pleasant and clean flow through his body and soul. Rain washing away the fire, wind blowing away the dust, ice quenching the heat...Onomi breathed deeply when she finished, and he held up his own hands.

"Spirits of earth, jungle, and sky," he prayed. "Forgive me, and be with me."

Strength filled his limbs, and he heard whispers in his ears. They were in an ethereal tongue only trained shamans truly understood, words but not words that seemed more like music than anything. Onomi wept more tears of joy, and he gazed fondly upon the Guardian.

" _I have a task for you, Onomi, son of Hotomi,"_ the Guardian said. She turned and pointed in the direction of Mej-Gurk. _"Return to your village, and await the caravan of Richard Quickhand. When you meet with your friend, Ka Remel, bring her to me, and I will show her the way to Dun Ki Ahng and the temple of her god."_

He nodded, not surprised that the Guardian knew his thoughts and memories. But he found it odd that the Guardian spirit of an obscure troll village would know anything of the Laiune gods.

" _Though we rule over different peoples, our spiritual realms are not so distant,"_ the Guardian chuckled gently. _"We talk to each other at times."_

"I understand," he said, bowing his head. "I will open the prayer house, and I will tell the shamans of your return. They will want to come to the Sanctuary."

" _I will meet all there,"_ the Guardian agreed. She began to fade, her body turning to light and her dress turning into a flurry of leaves that blew away, and nothing in the air was left. _"Go now, and be well, shaman Onomi."_


	14. The Crystal Tree

14: The Crystal Tree

The wall of flames had fallen, and all the demonic spirits had fled.

Onomi found the key to the prayer house hidden in the chieftain's hut, and released the shamans and the chief from their imprisonment. Soon after, he held council with the shamans and told them all that had happened since he had arrived, openly telling them about his now forgiven sin. They trusted his words, and promised not to reveal Onomi's actions with Keera to the chieftain. That would be up to Onomi and Keera.

The other shamans decided to take pilgrimage to the Sanctuary to rejoice in the Guardian's release, and after they left, Onomi waited in Mej-Gurk for Rich's caravan. He rested in the prayer house at night, and every morning for a week he watched for the covered wagons, the fiery-headed man, and the light green lore drake driving the meat wagon.

On the evening of the seventh day, Onomi heard calls throughout the village. The voices began to switch from the native troll tongue to Latis, and he rushed out of the prayer house. He wore a decorative loin cloth over his tunic and a necklace of golden eagle feathers, gifted to him by the other shamans as acknowledgment to his full rank. He swung his bow and quiver harness over his shoulder; Remel wouldn't let him get away walking around unprepared for a hunt.

As he suspected, he saw a line of wagons and people making their way from the Giga Track and into the village clearing. Hooves and feet stomped across the grass and wheels creaked against the terrain. Onomi waved to Rich, and the man grinned hugely as he rounded the wagon along the edge of the houses and stopped.

Onomi next searched for Remel, and found her and the hunters near the center of the caravan. He sprinted to her, the cool air of the wet season combing through his mane as his pendant bounced up and down over his feathers.

"Remel!" he called. The lore drake lifted her slim head, eyes wide, and she hopped from her wagon seat. Her tightly bound wings bounced a little under their wraps as she trotted to him.

They stopped a few feet away and grasped arms.

"You idiot!" she growled and laughed at the same time. "We thought you had either died or turned tail on us! What happened?"

"I had to come back," he said, waving to Mej-Gurk. He briefly told her about Amaas and the Guardian, and revealed to her the Guardian's will.

Remel pulled away, arms limp as she gazed at him listlessly.

"Your spirit...will show me the way?" she whispered.

"The Guardian has communed with your gods," Onomi explained. "I...I think Hanedoe wants you to finish the pilgrimage, Remel. The Guardian knows the way to the last temple."

Remel scratched her tangled, short mane, glancing around at the caravan. Most of her hunters had gone into the town to use up their earned kurds, while a few stayed by the wagon, awaiting Remel's orders. Onomi's brow creased a bit as he sensed her indecision, her fear. He gripped her arm.

"You will not fail," he told her as much as he told himself. "There is a way now. Take it!"

Remel lifted her head and closed her eyes to the twilight sky, the setting sun glimmering across her scales. Onomi couldn't tell then what she may have been thinking or feeling. He heard her take a deep breath, and her crimson eyes opened and her head cocked down. A sheen flashed across her delicate silver mask.

"...It is time for me to go, then," she said. "I must talk to Rich about this. Then...will you take me to the Sanctuary? Take me to your Guardian?"

"Yes," he grunted. Remel patted him on the shoulder, brushed a claw across his pendant, and turned to find Rich and end her career in his caravan. Onomi hated thinking about her leaving all her friends and comrades so quickly, for he had tasted of such heartbreak before, but he felt a lightness in his spirit knowing that she still loved her gods, no matter how abandoned she may have felt.

The next morning, Remel was ready to leave. She had a large duffel slung over her shoulder, along with her hunting tools and sleeping pad, and draped over all of this was her large cloak. Onomi wore his regular shaman clothing, bringing his bow and a knife with him. She bade Rich a final farewell, hugging him and pressing an aromatic packet into his hand, which Onomi guessed was spiced jerky.

Onomi led Remel down the road and to the Giga Track, and they turned eastward from the Black Crystal Mountains. They were quiet save for the scuffing of their feet, and Onomi observed Remel's slightly bowed head and searching eyes.

"You'll have a home again," he assured her. She glanced at him, and then grinned.

"I know," she said. "I've been thinking how I'm going to explain myself to my fellow Laiune when I go back...but...I'm not so sure about this Guardian. Will she really be able to lead me there?"

"This is her jungle," Onomi said, gesturing to the trees on their left. "Her realm must extend into the mountains and to your temple."

Remel opened her mouth as if to say something, but then shook her head and looked forward again. Onomi wondered if something still bothered her; it wasn't like her not to have her mind made up. He left her to her ponderings, though, and instead prepared himself for a final farewell to his friend, who may return to her Temple of Hanedoe and never come back to Mej-Gurk.

He tried to imagine what he would say, and if he should hug her or merely shake her hand. Did lore drakes have certain ways for a final goodbye? Or did they simply turn and leave without a word? For trolls, if a loved one left the village for a long time, if not forever, they touched the face of the other and touched their nose to the opposite hand. It was the only thing Onomi knew, and he settled on it, if uneasily.

The hardest part was not the ritual, but the feeling that would come with it. He feared the emptiness it would bring, and the longing for her companionship. Onomi was tempted to share these feelings with Remel, but she seemed closed in on herself now, and again he didn't want to interrupt her thoughts. She was probably trying to figure out some way to say goodbye to him too.

It took about a day and a half to trek to the Sanctuary. The shamans had already come and gone, so there were only Onomi and Remel. They came to the end of the trail, where it opened up to a circular platform of crystalline stone. At the center of the platform was an enormous tree made of the same crystal, with living light green leaves growing from its stiff branches. Surrounding the base of the tree trunk was a circular white building with a single entrance, facing west.

"Wait here until the Guardian is ready to receive you," Onomi indicated. Remel nodded and crouched to wait, leaning on her tail. He touched each of his _asha'jyu_ with two fingers before walking onto the platform. The stone was cool under his feet, his claws clicking against the surface. The presence of spirits flocked to him, ready to heed his good commands. Onomi breathed in their kindness and power; he couldn't believe that he had cursed these beings a few months ago, even though it wasn't them that had been controlling him.

Onomi came to the open entrance and stopped. This is where he had first called to the Guardian, and the malevolent and moaning Amaas had leaped from the then night-dark interior. This is where Onomi had fled from with raging terror, with the bad spirits chanting his failure to be full shaman.

Now the day and his life were full of light again, and he stepped in without fear. His feet dipped into a shallow trough of clear water that circled with the building. Every few feet were holes in the wall that came from the tree, and from them poured pure water. Holes on the opposite side let small amounts of water drain into the ground, leaving a perpetually filled pool. The roof was partially open, letting in a slanted shaft of light that lit up sections of the round pool and danced with shadows from the leaves.

Onomi leaned against the wall, his palms tingling against the spiritual power the smooth, cool stone held, and he bowed his head.

"Guardian spirit," he chanted. "It is me, Onomi, son of Hotomi. I have brought with me Ka Remel. She has come to see your promise to take her to her temple."

A breeze rushed through the hall, circling around Onomi.

" _Let her come onto the crystal ground, and I will speak with her, worthy Onomi."_

Worthy. Not a failure. He smiled gratefully and backed out through the door, keeping his head bowed. He backed almost all the way to the edge, and then turned partway and motioned for Remel. The lore drake shot up, tail twitching nervously, and padded next to Onomi. Remel blinked and stared hard at the Sanctuary, and Onomi followed her sight.

The Guardian stood just outside the doorway, and she walked with a confident and graceful swagger to her guests. She stopped and made a friendly gesture to Remel.

" _Welcome, daughter of Creator Hanedoe,"_ the Guardian said. _"Onomi has told you of my guidance. Are you ready to finish your pilgrimage?"_

Onomi loved the kindness in the Guardian's voice, and her tones seemed to echo the friendship Remel and Serem had shared with him.

Remel cleared her throat, and he noted the tremble in Remel's hands.

"I, that is...yes, I'm ready, if you really can take me," Remel said, tongue tying some. The Guardian gave a soft laugh, her dress rustling with her movement. "But..." Here she turned to Onomi, and he finally learned what she had wanted to say all this time. "...I would like Onomi to come with."

" _You are afraid of me,"_ the Guardian observed with an interested hum in her voice. Remel glanced away, bowing her head and clenching her jaw. Despite the Guardian's statement, her voice remained as patient as ever. _"I understand you do not trust me...so let me prove my trust."_ The Guardian held her hand out to Onomi. _"Will you join us for a time, worthy Onomi?"_

He grinned and nodded, whiskers relaxed in the joy that filled the platform.

" _We must go at once,"_ the Guardian said. _"Come, my friends, while the sun is still risen."_

The Guardian headed to the trail. Remel stood frozen, and when Onomi squeezed her hand briefly and let go, she seemed to thaw, and the two made their way back towards the Black Crystal Mountains.


	15. Adventure

15: Adventure

The three companions made their way through the canyonlands, and one morning the Guardian commanded Onomi to wait at their camp while she and Remel continued to Dun Ki Ahng. Onomi understood by this time that the lore drakes kept their fortress's location jealously secret, and it was possible they would attack him, even though he was accompanying a Laiuna.

So it was here Onomi gave his own farewell, touching Remel's cheek with a shaking hand and lifting her opposite hand to his wet nose. Remel didn't say anything herself. She simply took his hand and pressed it to her forehead, against both scale and metal. Onomi plucked a glossy eagle feather from his necklace and gave it to her, and she in turn yanked a light green scale from her neck and pressed it into his palm.

The ritual came and went so quickly that Onomi wondered why he had worried about what he would do or say. But then the dread and emptiness began to hit him as he watched Remel and the Guardian make their way up the canyon path, and he was left by the fire pit, rubbing the silky Laiuna scale between two fingers.

The Guardian returned at the end of the day and guided Onomi safely to the Sanctuary, her spiritual visage fading into the crystal tree.

Onomi returned to Mej-Gurk and began life anew. He restored good relationships with his family, all save Hotomi, who still saw Onomi as a failure, but did not speak so harshly with him anymore. He studied and worshiped with the shamans, guiding his people when the dry season dried up water supplies and made hunting scarce, or when floods threatened their village in the wet seasons. He built a new hut and began to build up his possessions again, which one day he would give back to the village.

Rich's caravan came and went over the years. Once a year Onomi traveled with the caravan, using his shaman magic to protect Rich's people and goods, and at the end of the four month cycle of travel, returned to Mej-Gurk and spent the rest of the year with his people.

Eight years passed since Onomi met Ka Remel, and he lived in his middle years, the older years peeking just over the horizon. Onomi still had not married, but he still hoped to someday, and was happy in his station as shaman and a caretaker of the prayer house.

He was in the prayer house, setting incense bowls on carved runes in the floor against the walls. The prayer mats were already laid out, and the sun shone through a single circular hole high on the eastern wall. In a few more minutes the other shamans would join him for the weekly prayers to the Guardian and the Great Spirits.

"Am I interrupting?"

He straightened from his bent position over one bowl and looked at the open entrance. A lithe and familiar form leaned against the frame, arms folded. Two small wings hung on their back. No, not small...broken. Broken in half.

"Remel?" he rasped, gliding to the door. The lore drake shifted so more exterior light hit her, and she held out her arms. Onomi grasped them along his, feeling the strength cord through her arms as she gripped him.

Her mane had grown out, and was carefully brushed and trimmed so it looked like a wave of gold down her spine. Her scales were groomed, some absent as scars, and her mask gleamed even in the half-light of the doorway. She wore a sturdy white robe, and underneath the collar he saw a shirt of light chainmail. Her _raelef_ hung on a belt between her legs, and on her back was her bow and quiver. A well-oiled strap of leather held them bound to her body, with a second smaller strap that went around her ribs and to the harness. She looked healthy and strong, and she wore a smile on her face.

"It's so good to see you again, Onomi," she laughed. "I had hoped you would be in town."

"It's good that I am; half the time I'm with Rich," he rumbled pleasantly. He welcomed her into the prayer house and offered her a rug to sit on. They sat across from one another and caught up on each other's lives. Onomi went first, and then eagerly listened to Ka Remel.

"I went to Blayde's Temple and prayed to Him," Remel began, keeping her posture straight and head high but relaxed. "He blessed me with forgiveness, and I returned with all haste to the Temple of Hanedoe. My High Priest welcomed me with open arms, and encouraged me to finish my penance to Hanedoe. The Lady was pleased with my work despite my years of absence, and I was welcomed back among the priests and priestesses.

"The High Priest returned my _seiong_ –– my talisman –– to me, and Hanedoe's special blessings on me were restored. I could heal again, and I marveled in the wonders and mysteries of the beyond. I wear it and revel in its sacredness."

Onomi knew he probably shouldn't have, but he discreetly searched Remel's visage for her _seiong._ She must have had it well-hidden, for he saw nothing that indicated a hidden object or concealed jewelry. Remel noted the way his eyes looked her up and down and wagged a finger at him.

"No, I won't show it to you. No one––except the one I am to marry." She turned her head a little. "Are you married, Onomi?"

He shook his head.

"Someday, though," he said. "What about your soldier? The one you first showed your... _seiong_ to?"

"Him? Ah!" She snorted, eyes narrowing, and her wings hunched around her partway. "When I went back to the Temple and was restored in Hanedoe's eyes, I sought him out. He was still at the fortress, but he pretended he didn't even know me."

She took a deep breath and muttered something to herself about forgiveness. Onomi knew it wouldn't be wise to press her further about the soldier.

"Anyway," she chirped, shaking her head. "Business at the Temple took over my life. I worked doing ordinances part of the time, as well as mentoring new priestesses. Sometimes I was sent with military units from the fort as magic support, mostly for healing. I fought a few times, but not for long, bless the Lady's Wings.

"I had the opportunity to attend a religious summit in Genkai, in the capitol, called Sheng Hi Nai. It's where religious leaders from all three sects of our faith gather to discuss our beliefs and coordinate spiritual work among our people. I thought about you a lot while I was there, and I traveled with some monks back to Kura-Cora. First we stopped in Scout Point, and then flew by wyvern over the jungles. I persuaded them to wait on the road while I came here for a visit."

Some of her terms about her religion went over his head, but Onomi didn't mind. All that mattered was that she was here, and that she was whole again, just as he was.

"What will you do now?" he asked. She rubbed her scaly chin.

"The monks say that the general at Dun Ki Ahng is looking for an emissary between our people and the local troll tribes," Remel hummed. "Does Mej-Gurk have good relations with other trolls?"

Onomi nodded, folding his arms, the golden feathers flashing on his chest.

"Mej-Gurk is allied with four other tribes and another village," he indicated. "All are under the protection of the great Guardian."

"Good thing Amaas only went after your village, I guess," Remel said. She paused and coughed. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

"No, I understand," he laughed, waving his hands. He stroked his whiskers, thinking over what the monks had said. "If we gave a representative, it would only be for the allied tribes. We couldn't promise anything beyond that." She bobbed her head. "But it would be a start between Laiune and trolls."

"I can't force you to do anything, but will you do it?" she asked, hope brightening her gravelly voice.

The prospect both excited Onomi and made him nervous. He had grown so comfortable with his life between Mej-Gurk and Rich's caravan, and Remel was the only lore drake he had ever known. On the other hand, Remel would be with him, and he was sure they could arrange for them to stay together, at least for a time. What he had seen and heard Remel go through, and of the journey of redemption they had shared...it made him want to journey with her wherever she went. It was a bond of friendship that quelled any fear, and he was honored to know Ka Remel.

"Let me prepare, and I will go wherever you go, my friend," he rumbled, holding out his hand. Remel grasped it, and they shared a smile.


End file.
